


Gone Soft and Blue With Stories

by secretsidgenowriter



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Falling In Love, Florists, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Self Confidence Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 16:01:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15866976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretsidgenowriter/pseuds/secretsidgenowriter
Summary: Geno has been in Pittsburgh for six months and living in the tiny apartment above his flower shop for two and, so far, Sid is the only friend he’s made.They’ve never even met.





	Gone Soft and Blue With Stories

Geno starts each day with a mug of black tea.

He cradles it in his hand as he methodically checks over the flowers. The calla lillies and the dahlias and the gladiolus.

Once a week he waters the succulents that are lined up perfectly along the shelf beside the front window. It’s enough sunlight for them to thrive but not enough that they’ll sunburn.

On days like today, when they don’t need water, he still looks them over carefully. He moves the jade next to the aloe and the hoya next to the desert rose. He turns the green prince in the turtle planter toward the window so the turtle can see out and wipes his hand on his apron before he moves away.

Next he checks the incoming deliveries for the day. He’s expecting more delivery tags, wrapping, and ribbon in the mail and a shipment of fresh gerbera daisies and mini sunflowers from his local contact. He’ll need them to make bouquets for two weddings this weekend.

At 8:59 he leaves his tea on the counter and turns the _closed_ sign to _open_ on the front door and unlocks it.

He grabs the rolled up newspaper that’s been left on the sidewalk.

Soon the city will start to cool and the leaves will begin to change but, for now, it’s just this. Late summer humidity and early morning sun.

At nine o’clock sharp he watches as Sid steps out of the Starbucks on the corner. He’s holding a to-go cup and takes a careful sip as he pulls his keys out of his pocket.

He stops at the front door of _Bridge Ink_ and waves at Geno with the hand that’s holding the cup.

Geno waves back with the hand that’s holding the paper and Sid nods once before he sticks the key in the lock and pushes the door open.

It’s the same thing day after day, without fail.

Geno has been in Pittsburgh for six months and living in the tiny apartment above his flower shop for two and, so far, Sid is the only friend he’s made.

They’ve never even met.

Sidney Crosby opened _Bridge Ink Tattoo Parlor_ with his business partner, Kris Letang (who shows up anywhere between thirty and forty-five minutes after Sid), seven years ago.

They’re both from Canada -- Sid from Nova Scotia and Kris from Quebec -- and both attended Carnegie Mellon University, where they met.

Geno knows all of this from _Bridge Ink’s_ website. He almost knows it all by heart by now. It’s user-friendly and simple and, late at night when he can’t sleep, he clicks through the pages and pages of sample work from the both of them.

Sid specializes in the traditional-style work -- clean lines and bold patterns -- while Kris is more abstract. Watercolors and curves and colors. Under the _Get To Know Your Artist_ tab Geno finds a link to Kris’s personal Twitter and Instagram accounts. He tweets in French and posts photos of himself in suits in front of floor-length mirrors and at the gym in shorts and T-shirts, a full sleeve of tattoos taking up both arms. He likes football and soccer and has been to every hot new restaurant in the city. Geno also learns that Kris married his high school sweetheart. They have a son and they’re expecting a daughter any day now.

Sid likes hockey and reading and war documentaries and left behind a yellow Lab named Sam with his parents back home. He doesn’t have an Instagram or a Twitter. There is no mention of his personal life, no matter how many times Geno looks, and he can’t help but feel a little cheated.

They hire a summer intern every year -- usually someone from the art program at Carnegie Mellon. This year it’s a curly haired blond kid who, judging by the photos on Kris’s instagram of Jake sitting behind the front desk, looks more like a 15-year-old than a sophomore in college.

Their website also clearly displays their hours, rates, and phone number, email, and fax.

Geno doesn’t even have a fax machine for _Coming Up Roses._ He also doesn’t have a website. At least not yet.

 _Baby steps_ , he reminds himself as he takes a deep breath through his nose to calm himself. He’ll get there. It’ll be all right.

He closes his eyes and focuses on his breathing until the bell above the door chimes and his first customer of the day walks in.

-

Geno knows he should consider himself lucky to have found this apartment and this building. It was nothing short of a miracle when Ksenia showed him the Facebook post announcing the closing of a popular florist downtown. The woman that owned it, a recent widow, was moving to Tucson to be closer to her children and grandchildren. At Ksenia and Sergei’s insistence, Geno made a call to find the asking price for the building.

“Built-in customers,” Ksenia had said as she flicked through photos of the interior. “It’s beautiful inside. I bet the old owner would appreciate that you’d be keeping the spirit of the place alive. Can you imagine how she’d feel if it was turned into a Dunkin’ Donuts or something like that?”

“The apartment above the shop is probably the best feature,” Sergei had said. “You’d own the whole building. No rent, no restrictions. You could do whatever you liked.”

They were only trying to help. After all, owning his own business and finding his independence is what he came to America to do. Not crashing in an old family friends guest room and staying in and babysitting their children every weekend. He was coming up on 30 -- he needed to have his own life.

He knew that Ksenia and Sergei only had his best interests at heart, he really did. But still, all Geno heard in his head was _“you’ve worn out your welcome. We’re tired of you. A free babysitter just isn’t worth this.”_

Ksenia had gone with him to meet Mrs. Patterson that first time, just in case anything threatened to get lost in translation.

But Mrs. Patterson talked slowly and softly and didn’t seem annoyed when Geno struggled to find the right word in English. Geno asked his questions and then stepped aside to admire the flowers she hadn’t yet moved out and tried to envision what he’d do with the place to make it his own. He wanted to keep the integrity intact. Gutting it and starting fresh simply wasn’t in the budget and, behind him, Ksenia and Mrs. Patterson were chatting about the memories she had made with her late husband.

He wanted to honor that.

He ran his hand down the imperfections in the counter and knew right away that this is one of the things he would definitely be keeping. He took in the shelving unit on the wall and the bell above the door before he stepped to the front window.

 _Coming Up Roses_ was painted in cursive on the glass in a soft red and outlined in bright white. A small bouquet of roses were painted into the corners, their stems hanging down and curling together.

It was beautiful and Geno couldn’t imagine chipping it away.

“Might keep,” he had said when Mrs. Patterson stepped up beside him.

“The window or the name?”

“Maybe both. If it’s okay.”

“Of course it is. You know my husband picked the name, corny as hell but it stuck. A few years back I had Sidney paint this for me.”

Geno had raised his brows in question and Mrs. Patterson had nodded across the street, which was quiet and pothole-ridden.

“He owns the tattoo parlor, him and Kris. They’re nice boys,” she had said. “Don’t let the ink run you off.”

Geno looked across the street and took in the simple brick building with a large front window. _Bridge Ink_ was painted across the surface in blocky, black letters and a gold bridge was printed onto the black awning above the red door.

The lights were on and he could see people moving around inside, but the only thing he really focused on was the rainbow sticker stuck to the corner of the glass, small but unmistakable.

-

“What did you do this weekend,” Sergei asks. Geno hums into the phone.

He went to the grocery store and then made planters out of empty tea tins for the succulents that are lining his kitchen window.

“Usual,” he says as he frowns at the snapdragons and freesias in front of him. He can’t seem to get them to look right. “Nothing.”

“Zhenya,” Sergei says on a sigh and Geno sighs right back. This, their weekly chat, feels a lot like checking in with his mother except she doesn’t call nearly as often. It’s easier to lie to her. “When are you going to start doing something?” “Don’t know what you mean,” Geno says tightly as he unbunches a few larkspur and tries to work them in.

“Go out. Meet someone. Have fun. You’re still young, Zhenya.”

Geno thinks his planters were a fun time but he understands what Sergei is getting at. There’s freedom here, the kind he never had in Russia. He could go out to a bar and flirt with anyone he wanted. He could kiss them. He could take them home. There’s nothing stopping him.

Except, of course, the stinging fear of rejection. English is still awkward and clumsy on his tongue and there’s always the chance he’s going to flirt with the wrong guy, a guy who wouldn’t want him no matter what he sounded like.

He knows there are gay bars in the city, he has researched them almost as thoroughly as he has Bridge Ink on nights when he can’t sleep, which ends up being most nights. But just because the odds are tipped in his favor doesn’t mean it’s going to work out.

“Going alone,” he says to Sergei , “it’s a lot.”

“I told you I’d go with you,” Sergei says back, and Geno has to laugh. “What? Why is that funny?”

“I just can’t imagine you being there is all.”

“You’re just worried I would pull more guys than you, you can admit it.”

Geno laughs again but it dies off when Sergei doesn’t join him.

“Zhenya, we’re worried about you. You spend so much time alone …”

“I’m working all day.”

“But at night … on the weekends. You need more than that.”

“I told you, it’s hard.”

“Lots of things are hard. Leaving Russia and coming here was hard, running your own business is hard, learning English is hard, but you did all of those. This is one more thing. You don’t have to date anyone if you don’t want but you should have friends. Or at least the potential of a friend.”

Geno’s mind snaps to Sid and he looks up. The lights are still on across the street but he can’t see anyone inside through the window.

“You can’t spend your life in the shop or in your apartment.”

“I like my apartment.” He loves it. Everything in it was handpicked by him from the paint on the walls to the furniture to the dishes in the cabinets. He has carefully collected each piece from tag sales or flea markets or thrift stores. They’re unique and his own and he’s built a home out of them.

“Ksenia knows a guy from work --.”

“Sergei .”

“-- that she thinks would be perfect for you.”

“You’re not setting me up.”

“Well you’re not doing it on your own. We’re only trying to help.”

Geno sighs and drops his head into his hand. He rubs at his temples with his fingertips and fights the urge to hang up. They’ve done so much for him. He can’t be ungrateful.

“I know you are but --.”

Geno cuts himself off when the door knob rattles. He drops his hand from his head when he sees Sid at the front door, face almost pressed against the glass.

“I have to go,” Geno says quickly.

“Why? What’s wrong? Zhenya --.”

Geno hangs up halfway through the word and puts his phone face down on the counter so he won’t see it light up if Sergei calls back.

Sid has stepped away from the door by the time Geno rounds the counter and unlocks the door. Sid’s in dark denim jeans and a black hoodie that’s zipped halfway up his chest. Geno can see ink peeking out from beneath the v-neck of his T-shirt, but not enough to know what he’s looking at. This is the first time he’s seen Sid this close and he’s wholly unprepared when Sid opens his mouth and says, “Hi.”

Geno’s not sure what accent he’s expecting but it’s not this one, not one so soft and gentle and _apologetic._

“I’m sorry,” Sid continues. “I know it’s late and you’re closed but the light was on and you were in there so I thought maybe ...” He trails off as Geno stares and suddenly Sid sticks out his hand. There’s a mark on the top of his thumb, a small rounded bit of ink about a half an inch long. “God, I’m sorry. I’m Sidney. You don’t even know me, we haven’t even met but --”

“Sid,” Geno says and Sid’s eyes widen. Maybe he wasn’t expecting an accent either. Geno nods towards Bridge Ink and takes Sid’s hand. “You work at tattoo place.” He tips his head to the left towards the window. “You painted sign. I’m Geno.”

Sid’s face breaks into a grin and he nods.

“Yeah, yeah, I did. I’m sorry I haven’t come over sooner, or at least while you’re actually open, but it’s been busy and Tanger … Tanger,” he says with a shake of his head. “That’s why I’m here, actually.” He lets go of Geno’s hand and presses his lips into a thin line. “Actually, you can tell me to fuck off right now. You’re closed for the day, you don’t have to do anything for me.”

Geno steps to the side and waves him in. Sid talks fast and Geno has a hard time keeping up but he understand the hesitance that’s lacing his voice.

“Come in,” Geno says. “Can help. Was working on something small, been bothering me. Could use a break. How can I help?”

Sid glances around the shop before he looks back to Geno.

“Tanger, Kris, he works with me,” he explains and Geno nods. Geno already knows this and so much more. “His wife had the baby.”

Geno makes a soft noise. He’s been checking Kris’s Instagram account for an update more often than usual lately. His wife has looked ready to pop for weeks now.

“It’s a girl,” Sid says. “I’m actually headed over there to see her for the first time and I figured I should bring flowers.” He rubs his hands over his thighs. “That’s what people do, right?”

“People bring flowers for lots of reasons,” Geno says. “But babies are best one.”

Sid smiles and seems to relax and Geno busies himself by ducking into the back to find a vase and cuts off a long strand of pink and white polkadot ribbon.

“You know mama’s favorite flower,” he asks and when Sid shakes his head he tries again, simpler this time. “What about color?”

“I don’t even know what my favorite flower is. Or color.”

Geno looks his outfit over, dark jeans and a dark sweatshirt, and thinks maybe Sid doesn’t even have one.

“Sorry,” Sid tells him and Geno waves him off. He’s had less to go on when brides walked through the door, and weddings have arguably bigger stakes than newborn babies.

“Is fine. Summer baby gets summer flowers. You think she likes peonies?”

Sid has a vacant look in his eyes, like he doesn’t know what that word means until Geno points to the flowers in the galvanized bucket beside him.

“Oh, yeah, for sure. Those are beautiful.”

“My favorite,” Geno admits as he picks out different shades of pink. “Big and bold, don’t need fillers. Very classic, very hardy, always come back when you plant them, but delicate too. Perfect flower,” he says softly and then clears his throat when he realizes he’s waxing poetic about a flower. Still, Sid is watching him with a warm light in his eyes that calms Geno’s mind. “Will only take a few minutes to pull together. You okay to wait?”

“Of course, I’ve got time. If I’m late I can always blame traffic.”

“Because is always there to blame,” Geno says as he grabs a pair of clippers out of the drawer and snips off the stems so they fit in the vase.Sid laughs again and Geno’s well on his way to loving the sound.

Sid politely pokes around the shop while Geno works on the arrangement. Finally, he comes to a stop in front of the window and says, “I could freshen this up for you,” over his shoulder. “It looks like some of the paint is chipping. I’m surprised it’s lasted for as long as it has.”

“If you not busy,” Geno says as he rearranges the peonies in the vase until they’re how he likes them.

“It might be a few weeks,” Sid admits. “Tanger’s going to be home with the baby so it’s going to be just me, but after he comes back …” He trails off and looks back over his shoulder. “Wow,” he says as he turns around completely and stares at the vase. “That’s beautiful.”

Geno turns the vase around so the bow is out front. “You like? Think she like?”

“Yeah, I think she’ll love it. You just whipped that together,” he says. “That’s amazing.” Geno ducks his head as Sid pulls out his wallet. “How much, and please, charge me extra, charge me triple. It was super last minute and you’re not even open right now.”

“No charge,” Geno tells him. When Sid shakes his head and pulls out his credit card, Geno puts his hands up and refuses to take it. “For baby, no charge. Is gift.”

“That’s … really nice of you,” Sid says. He slides the card back into his wallet and Geno gets a clear look at the tattoo on his left thumb. A hockey stick. _A hockey stick and a puck,_ he realizes. “That’s really sweet,” Sid says, jarring Geno from his thoughts. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Geno says with a shrug as he boxes up the vase so it’ll be easy for Sid to carry. “Let me know if she likes.”

Sid carefully gathers it into his arms and nods. “I will and, hey, if you ever want a tattoo, come on over. I’ll give you the friends and family discount.”

Geno’s heart stutters in his chest. He picks up the flowers he was working on before Sid came in just so he has something to do with his hands. “Friends?”

Sid’s answering smile is beautiful.

“Yeah, for sure. Come by anytime, I’ll take care of you. Thanks again for this,” he says as he holds up the flowers. “Have a good night, Geno.”

He opens the door and slips through and Geno watches as he looks both ways before he crosses the street and continues down the way he comes every morning.

All of a sudden the snapdragons and freesias fall into place and he shuts off the lights and goes upstairs.

-

The following morning Sid doesn’t just wave hello. He crosses the street with his coffee in hand and steps up onto the sidewalk beside Geno.

The sleeve of his T-shirt falls just above the bridge that’s tattooed onto his bicep. On the bend of his elbow there’s a penguin, chubby and round with its flippers raised out to its sides.

On his right upper arm there’s a whale, it’s tail disappearing beneath the sleeve and, a little farther down, a seal, its body bent like it’s swimming through the water. They’re all the same style. All sleek lines of black ink that stand out against his tanned, summer skin.

“Cath loved the flowers,” Sid says. Geno stops staring at the ink and looks to Sid’s face, which is just as interesting. “She thought they were beautiful. I told her where I got them from, so don’t be surprised if you get a ton of orders all of the sudden. It seems like all her friends are either getting married or having kids.”

“More business is always good,” Geno says as Sid takes a sip of his coffee. There’s a black smudge on the inside of his wrist but Geno can’t make it out.

“I wanted to say thank you, again. That was really nice of you and you didn’t have to do it.”

“I already say is no big deal. No problem for a good neighbor. Good friend.”

Sid smiles behind the rim of his cup. “I meant what I said about your window if you want me to redo it. Freshen it up or change the colors, whatever you want.”

“You’re the artist,” Geno says. “Up to you.”

Sid nods and takes a long look at the window. “All right. When Tanger comes back I should have some time. I’ll be over.”

“Sounds good,” Geno says and then adds, “Can’t wait.”

Sid gives him another smile and a half wave before he’s stepping off the curb and and crossing the street.

Geno watches him until he disappears inside the building.

-

The weather changes slowly.

Hot and humid days give way to cool nights and Geno receives shipments of bright red poppies and golden chrysanthemums. Brides come into the shop with warm color schemes for their weddings and Geno lies beneath an extra blanket as he tries to fall asleep at night.

Kris comes back to work.

Geno watched him walk into Bridge Ink mid-September and by mid-October Sid still hasn’t come over to paint the window.

Geno tries hard not to be disappointed. There are people constantly coming in and out of Sid’s shop -- he’s busy. Or he forgot. Or he never actually meant to do it in the first place.

They still smile and wave at each other in the mornings, maybe that’s all there is to it.

He’s been tactfully holding off Sergei and Ksenai’s threats of a blind date for weeks now, thinking that maybe next week Sid will come over and they’ll talk and Geno will finally have a real and solid base on which to form a friendship.

Two conversations is hardly enough but three …

But Geno is growing weary of waiting. For Sid, and for his life to really begin. He spent all those years back home afraid to be who he really was and now he feels like he’s still waiting.

The days are growing shorter and the nights are getting colder and he’s lonely.

What harm could one date do? If it goes well then that’s great. If it’s a disaster then it will be something for him to talk about on his next date, whenever he works up the courage to have another.

He’s planning the best way to tell Sergei that he’s ready to take him up on his and Ksenia’s offer without sounding like he’s giving up when Sid walks through the front door with a couple of cans of paint and brushes.

His jeans are faded and ripped at the knees and his sweatshirt is ratted at the edges.

“Is now a good time?” he asks as he raises the cans.

Every thought of a blind date flies out of Geno’s head as he puts down the flowers he’s holding and nods.

“Sorry I didn’t get over here sooner,” Sid says as he helps Geno move the bench in front of the window. “But I’m here now. Do you still trust me or have you come up with an idea?”

“I trust,” Geno says as they set down the bench.

“I won’t be in your way,” Sid promises as he tucks himself against the window. He chips at the paint with his fingernail. It flakes away easily. “And I’ll be quiet, too. You won’t even know I’m here.”

It’s two truths and one lie.

Sid isn’t in his way and, aside from the gentle scraping of the putty knife against the glass to get the paint off the window, he is very quiet.

However, Geno is very aware that Sid is there.

Geno tries to bury himself in his work. God knows there’s enough of it to go around with the autumn wedding season in full swing. But when Sid stretches up to get the paint at the top corner and his sweatshirt rides up, revealing pale skin and a flash of red ink, Geno can hardly bare to look at anything else.

At 11 he has a consultation with a bride and her mother. They’re supposed to be deciding between calla lilies or dahlias but all they can seem to do is watch Sid as he paints with broad strokes against the glass.

At one point he bends over to dip the brush into the paint can on the floor and the denim of his jeans pulls tight across his ass.

The bride takes a sharp breath in and exhales slowly while Geno nods in sympathy.

“I know,” he says softly and then, “How do you feel about hydrangeas?”

In the end they settle on roses. Predictable, in Geno’s opinion, and more than a little boring, but it’s not his wedding and the client is always right.

As they go to leave the mother takes one more look at Sidney before patting Geno’s arm and says, “You have a lovely shop. I’m sure we’ll be back.”

Geno gives up shortly after that.

He pricks himself on a thorn for the third time when Sid pulls the sweatshirt over his head, leaving him in a soft grey henley that molds itself to his back.

“Sid, going in back to work. More room. If someone comes in just yell.”

“All right. I’m almost done.” He working on something in the bottom corner of the window, so far down Geno can’t see it. “It’ll be a surprise.”

Geno hums in response then hurries to the back before Sid can do something devastating, like rolling up his sleeves.

He gets a surprising amount of work done in the back before Sid knocks on the side of the door to get his attention.

“I’m all done,” Sid says. There’s a streak of green paint on his jeans and his hair is a mess, like he’s been running his fingers through it. “You want to see?”

Geno nods eagerly but Sid holds his hands up when he steps towards the door.

“Wait, close your eyes. It’s a surprise.”

“Know what color you paint,” Geno says as he points at Sid’s jeans.

“There’s other things. Just close your eyes.”

Geno throws his hand over his eyes and asks, “How am I going to make it out there if I can’t --.”

He stops when he feels Sid at his side and Sid puts one hand on Geno’s elbow and the other on his back.

Sid slowly leads him through the shop. Geno catches his hip on the edge of the counter but the pain is soothed away when Sid brushes his hand against Geno’s side like an apology.

Sid steps out the front door first and holds both of Geno’s wrist in his hands as he guides him out.

Geno still has his eyes squeezed shut as Sid positions him on the sidewalk and Sid’s standing close beside him when he says, “Okay, you can open them now.”

Geno opens his eyes. “Oh,” is all he can say.

Coming Up Roses is painted straight across the window in a deep sage green. The lines are sharp and clean, like the ink of Sid’s skin. The roses in the corners of the window have been replaced by peonies in different shades of pink, just like the ones in the arrangement he made for Sid.

“I know roses is in the name but you said those were your favorite,” Sid explains. “I think they suit you better. Do you like it?”

Geno loves it. It’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for him. If he really thought about it he could probably cry.

“Is great,” he says instead, just barely able to keep his voice steady. “Looks perfect.”

“Are you sure,” Sid asks. “I could change it if you don’t like it.”

“No, don’t change anything, Mean it. Perfect.” Sid smiles up at him and pushes his hand through his hair, leaving a smudge of pink paint by his temple.

Geno buries his hands in his pockets before he can reach out and wipe it away.

-

When Sergei calls him at the end of the week he casually mentions that Sid came over and re-did the window.

“Looks great,” he says as he slowly stirs the canned soup in the pot on the stove in front of him. “Get lots of compliments on it already.”

“Who the hell is Sid?”

Geno taps the wooden spoon on the edge of the pot and turns down the burner.

“A friend.”

-

The following week Geno frets over the idea of bringing Sid flowers as a proper thank you.

He spends his free time looking at Bridge Ink’s website to find shots of the interior. It’s all hardwood floors and brick walls and dark leather chairs. It’s masculine without being unwelcoming and Geno assembles and disassembles four arrangements before he finally settles on a bouquet filled with deep burgundy dahlias and cream colored roses. It’s beautiful and dramatic and he wills his palms to stop sweating as he picks up the vase and carries it across the street.

Jake, who, according to Kris’s Instagram has been hired part-time, is sitting at the front desk, idly tapping a pencil against a notebook when Geno walks in.

He sits up straighter in his chair when he sees Geno and slaps on a smile. “Hi, I can sign for that.”

“Oh no,” Geno says. “Don’t have to sign. Is for Sid.”

“He’s with a customer right now but I can take it.” Jake stands and holds his hands out but Geno holds it tighter. He wants to see Sid’s reaction.

“Know when Sid will be done?”

“Umm. Not really,” Jake says, clearly unsure where the conversation is headed. “He’s been working for a while but it could still be some time.”

“Can I wait?”

“Ummm.”

“What’s up?” Kris steps up behind Jake’s shoulder and Jake’s body visibly sags in relief. Kris is even more handsome in person than he is online and, if Geno wasn’t already well on his way to being completely gone on Sidney, he could see a hopeless crush forming. “Anything I can help with?”

“Have flowers for Sid,” Geno says and he can feel his face getting warm with embarrassment. This was a mistake.

“Sid’s with a customer right now,” Kris tells him. When Geno looks over his shoulder at the empty shop, Kris explains. “When the tattoo is in a delicate spot we offer the client some privacy.”

Geno’s face flames at the thought of Sid alone with someone else. But he’s working and he’s a professional and there’s no reason for Geno to feel any sort of way about it. He and Sid are just _friends_ after all.

“We’ll make sure he gets the flowers if you want to leave them,” Kris says and it’s as close to an outright dismissal as he is going to get.

Not wanting to test their patience, Geno slides the vase onto the counter. “Can just tell it’s from Geno. From across the street.”

“ _Oh,”_ Kris says emphatically and Jake’s eyes go wide. “You’re Geno.” He looks Geno up and down and nods. “Makes sense. Just hang on a minute, okay? Sid should be finishing up pretty soon.” He tips his head towards the couch against the wall. “Take a seat. I’ll be right back.”

He disappears into the back and Geno sinks into the oversized chair in the corner. Just like Kris, the interior of the shop is more impressive in person. It’s spotless from top to bottom and the art on the wall is diverse and vivid. Across the sitting area there’s a Canadian flag painted on the brick wall and, when Geno twists around, there’s an American flag behind him. There are nods to Pittsburgh scattered around. Atmospheric photos of the skyline from Mount Washington and bridges covered in snow. There are also photos of Sid and Kris standing with their arms around the shoulders of other people — customers most likely. They’re all taller and vaguely familiar and Geno’s about to get up and get a better look when Sid turns the corner around the front desk quickly enough that he almost slips on the hardwood.

He catches himself on the desk and Jake hides a smile behind his hand.

“Geno,” Sid says. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Geno says. “Know you’re busy, didn’t mean to take you away.”

“Oh, it’s okay. I was done anyway. Well, I was mostly done. Tanger’s just going through the aftercare instructions with him now. What’s up?”

“Bring you flowers,” Geno says as he points towards the vase on the counter. Jake pushes it forward towards Sid with his fingers and Sid picks it up. “Thank you for painting sign.”

“The sign was a thank you for the bouquet you made for me last-minute.”

Geno shrugs and Sid sits beside him, close enough that their knees almost touch.

“Can I take it home with me or does it have to stay here?”

“Is yours. Can do what you want.”

Sid touches the petals and knocks their knees together. “I think it’s too nice to leave here.”

-

At the beginning of December he watches Sid and Kris struggle to hang twinkly lights on the awning over the door to their shop.

Neither one of them is tall enough to reach the spot in the middle where it curves up but they're either too stubborn or too lazy to go get a step ladder. Sid seems the most determined, jumping up and standing on his tiptoes while Kris holds the strand and doubles over with laughter each time Sid fails.

Sid flips him off then puts his hand on his hip and looks up at the awning like that’ll help him come up with a solution. It doesn’t work and Geno sets down the watering can and heads across the street.

Sid is still struggling when Geno gets to him and, without saying a word, steps behind Sid, takes the lights and hangs them from the top of the awning.

“Ha,” Kris laughs. “Told you you were too short.”

“You’re not much taller.”

“Both short,” Geno says as he hangs the rest of the strand. “Watch you both struggle from shop so I start to feel bad. Had to come help.”

“What are you still doing in the shop,” Sid asks. “You’ve been closed for almost two hours.”

Geno shrugs.

“People still want flowers in winter. Just me working, so very busy.” What he doesn’t tell Sid is that the only other option he has is to go upstairs and eat cold pizza in front of the television, alone. At least down in the shop he has the plants to keep him company. “Coming out here is nice little break.”

Kris clears his throat loudly before he opens the front door and disappears inside. Sid’s face flushes, but it’s easy to blame it on the cold wind that’s picking up now that the sun has gone down.

“If you want to take a real break, we could go get coffee,” Sid says as he nods up the street towards the Starbucks. “My treat?”

Starbucks is quiet this time of night with only a handful of patrons and soft Christmas music playing in the background.

Geno puts up a halfhearted fight when it’s time to pay.

“It’s my treat,” Sid says as he bats at Geno’s wallet. “Go find us a table.”

“Maybe all taken,” Geno teases and lets himself be shooed away.

He finds a table in the corner and tucks himself away while he waits for Sid.

“Are you sure you didn’t want decaf,” Sid asks as he hands Geno his tea. “That would keep me up all night.”

Geno shakes his head then leans forward to see what Sid has. “Hot chocolate has caffeine too.”

“It’s not the same,” Sid says as he takes a sip. Whipped cream sticks to his upper lip and Geno studies the holiday pattern on the paper cup as Sid’s tongue darts out to catch it. “Besides, I have to work for a few more hours.”

“Like hot chocolate more than coffee?”

“I like sweet things,” Sid explains, and Geno decides to file that away for later. “You’ll be able to sleep tonight?”

“Caffeine doesn’t bother me,” Geno says, which doesn’t really answer Sid’s question. Truthfully, caffeine is the least of his worries when it comes to not getting enough sleep.

“Lucky,” Sid says softly and they lapse into a silence until Sid clears his throat and asks, “Do you have plans for Christmas?”

“Going over to a friend’s house,” Geno says, and he thinks he sees Sid’s shoulders drop slightly. “He and his family decorate whole house. Kids get very excited.”

“Oh. So it’s like a family thing?”

“Yes, can call them family. Known Seryozha for so long … help me a lot when I first move here. Let me live with them for months, help me with English. Ksenia, his wife, was the one that found the flower shop. Don’t know where I would be without them. Still in Russia, probably. Do you go back to Canada for Christmas?”

Sid shakes his head. “Not this year. I went back home for a couple of weeks in June but it’s hard to get away when you own a small business. This year I’m going over to Tanger’s. They always have a big party.”

“Why do you call him Tanger?”

“It’s a nickname he picked up in college. We used to play hockey together -- not for the school or anything, just a little rec league. I guess it just stuck.”

“You have nickname, too?”

Sid looks down at his hot chocolate. “Oh. Ummm.”

“You do. Tell me,” Geno says gleefully as he pokes the toe of his shoe against Sid’s shin. “Tell me.”

“It’s not a big deal. It didn’t even stick like Tanger’s did.”

“Kris will tell me. He likes me, I make pretty bouquets for his wife.”

“You make pretty bouquets for everyone.”

Geno sits back and lets Sid’s compliment wash over him.

“I’m glad you have them… your friends,” Sid says. “They sound like good people.”

“Best,” Geno agrees. “But they worry. Seryozha calls me every week to check up on me.”

“That sounds … kind of nice.”

“Little bit much. He worries.”

“About what? It seems like you have plenty of business. You’re always working late.”

“Is why he worries. He …” Geno sighs and contemplates how much he’s going to tell Sid. He doesn’t want pity. “He thinks I work too much. Don’t spend enough time with friends. Thinks maybe I’m lonely.”

“Are you?” Sid ask softly. Geno looks up to find Sid looking back at him with soft, sympathetic eyes. It’s so tempting to tell him everything he’s been feeling and everything he’s been afraid of. Both their hands are on the table. It would be so easy for Sid to pick his up and place it over Geno’s. Geno can almost feel Sid doing it. He seems like the type with a natural urge to comfort, and that’s exactly what Geno needs.

“How could I be lonely?” he says. “Have plenty of business, lots of customers. Tell me about Christmas with the Letangs. Going to be baby’s first Christmas, that’s exciting.”

Sid seems reluctant to let the subject change but soon he’s talking about what he got Tanger’s son for Christmas last year and what he wants to get _both_ of the kids this year. Sid gets lost in it. He glows. Geno sits back and sips at his tea and tries to let Sid’s absolute delight ease the ache in his chest.

After they’ve finished their drinks they walk slowly back down the street, shoulders bumping and hands deep within their pockets.

Sid lingers in front of the tattoo parlor with his hand on the door.

“You know, you don’t just have work and customers. You have your friend and his whole family. Tanger really likes you, and not just because you make bouquets for his wife. Jake is a little shy right now, but he’ll warm up. And you know you have me, right? If you ever need someone to talk to or … whatever, I’m always around.”

Geno swallows thickly and nods. “I know.”

“Good,” Sid says. “Have a good night, Geno. I hope you can get some sleep.”

“Night, Sid,” Geno says as Sid opens the door and steps inside.

Geno crosses the street, locks up the shop and heads upstairs.

He eats dinner and watches highlights from the Pens game then takes a shower and climbs into bed. He lets himself toss and turn for two hours before he throws the covers off, pulls a sweatshirt on, and heads back downstairs to get a head start on his work for the following day.

-

December drags on.

The weather turns to ice and snow and every morning he picks up his paper from a puddle of slush on the sidewalk. At least the paper carrier is good about making sure the plastic bag protects it from most of the moisture and Geno isn’t forced to throw away a log of wet paper pulp, unread.

He tries to keep up with the constant demand for poinsettias and wreaths made of pine bows and he waves to Sid.

-

On Christmas Eve Geno eats too many cookies in Sergei and Ksenia’s kitchen. There’s a party in the living room -- friends and neighbors -- and Geno has been hiding from the mistletoe hanging in the entryway and the specific friend of Ksenia that he knows is a set up.

The guy, Misha, looks nice enough. Tall with sandy brown hair. Russian, so they’ll have plenty of things to talk about.

But Geno doesn’t want to talk to him. Sid had told him that if he ever wanted to talk that he would be there and right now Geno is wishing that he had his phone number.

Not that it would matter much. Sid’s probably having an amazing time at Kris’s house, not hiding from anyone in the kitchen like a coward or drowning his loneliness in gingerbread and tea cakes.

Geno bites the head off of a gingerbread man, pulls his phone out of his pocket and pulls up Kris’s Instagram.

There’s a shot of a Christmas tree, the lights blurring the image as the camera tries to focus, and two plates of cookies, one artfully decorated and the other clearly decorated by a child. There are photos of Kris and Cath and a few other familiar faces that Geno has seen on Kris’s feed before.

He doesn’t need to scroll very much longer before he finds what he’s looking for. There’s a photo of Sid sitting at a kids’ table that’s so small his knees are almost pressed flush against his chest. His head is bent and Geno studies a hint of dark red ink at the back of his neck right above the collar of his dark blue sweater. Sid is coloring along with the other kids at the table. The caption is in French and, when he he taps on _see translation_ on the bottom, it says _forever alone at the kiddie table._

That certainly clears up any lingering thoughts Geno had about the possibility of Sid having _someone._

“There you are,” Ksenia says as she walks into the kitchen holding an empty tray. She frowns at the cookie in his hand. “How many of those have you eaten? You’re going to get sick.”

“Sorry, Mama,” Geno jokes and Ksenia pinches his cheek.

“Here I was thinking Seryozha was the mother.”

“You both are.”

“Why are you hiding in here with your phone,” she asks as she leans over to get a look at the screen. “Who is that?”

“Sid,” Geno says as he tips the screen towards her.

“Ah, you’re tattoo artist friend.” She hums as she looks at the screen. “He’s not what I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “He seems nice. Are you two very close?”

“We had coffee a few weeks ago. He’s a friend.”

“Only a friend?”

“Yes,” Geno says with a heavy sigh. “Only friends.”

Ksenia hums again and Geno can see the wheels turning in her head.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with all these cookies. I shouldn’t have let the girls talk me into making so many … why don’t you bring some to Sid? Do you think he’ll like them?”

“Sid likes sweet things,” Geno says without thinking. When Ksenia’s eyes widen, he knows he’s been caught.

“I’ll make you a plate to bring him before you leave. Now why don’t you come out and join the party? Misha has to leave, the coast is clear.”

“Coast you help ruin.”

She loops her arm through Geno’s. “I didn’t know.”

“Know what?”

She pats his arm. “Don’t worry about it. Come join the fun. The girls want to give you your present before they go to bed.”

-

Geno sleeps over that night. He lies awake in his old room and listens to Seryozha and Ksenia’s voices in the kitchen fade away to Natalie and Victoria’s excited chatter and footsteps running up and down the hall because Santa has come.

After breakfast and presents Geno leaves with hugs from the girls, the hand-painted planters they made for him, and a container full of cookies for Sid.

“There’s some for you in there, too,” Ksenia says as she hands the totebag to him. “I hope Sid likes them and I hope he sees how great you are.”

Geno sighs. “Ksenia …”

“I know, I know. But you really are great, Zhenya. You deserve someone who knows that.”

Geno lets himself be pulled into a hug before Seryozha walks him to the door.

-

The following morning Geno brings the cookies with him when he unlocks the front door and gets the paper.

Sid crosses the street when Geno waves him over and Geno holds out the container.

“Christmas cookies. I think maybe you like.”

Sid smiles and tips the container so he can look inside. “Thanks. That’s really nice of you. I actually have something for you, too.” He has his coffee in his other hand so he has to tuck the container between his arm and his body as he reaches into his back pocket. He takes out a folded piece of paper and shakes it loose before he hands it to Geno.

“It’s nothing really,” Sid says. He sounds embarrassed. “I was coloring with some of the kids at the party on Christmas Eve and I just started sketching your building.”

The paper is a little wrinkled but the sketch is the spitting image of _Coming Up Rose’s_ storefront. Done in crayon and colored pencils, Sid has managed to perfectly match the shade of the brick, and around the window are brightly colored flowers. It makes Geno think of warm weather and spring.

“I know it’s not great,” Sid says. “But I thought maybe you could stick it on your fridge or … I don’t know, throw it in the trash.”

“No,” Geno says as he holds the paper close to his heart like Sid’s going to yank it out of his hands and throw it away himself. “Going to frame it.”

“Oh, seriously?”

“Yes. Is perfect. ‘Throw it out’,” he mocks. “You really think I throw this out?”

“No, I guess not. I’m glad you like it.”

“Love. Is perfect. Going to find perfect place to hang it.”

“Good.” Sid shakes the container of cookies gently. “And I’m not going to share these with Tanger or Jake.”

“Good,” Geno says with a laugh. “Get then for you, not for them.”

Sid laughs and Geno’s whole day is made.

-

According to Bridge Ink’s website, they’re open until 8 Sunday through Thursday and 9 on Friday and Saturday.

On a Saturday just a few weeks into the new year, the lights are still on at 9:30. Geno watches out his kitchen window as they stay on past 9:45. At 10, Kris leaves and, finally, at 10:20, the lights go out and Sid steps out onto the sidewalk.

Geno pushes himself away from the window and flies down the stairs. By the time he makes it outside Sid is halfway down the block, shoulders hiked up around his ears in the cold.

He turns when he hears his name and Geno watches his eyebrows shoot up to the edge of his beanie in the watery light of the street lamps.

“Where’s your coat?” Sid asks him when he’s halfway back to Geno. “And your shoes?”

It’s only then Geno realizes he’s in the thin T-shirt he wears to bed and his slippers. He ran without thinking.

“Russian,” he says and Sid smiles. “Cold is no problem. You have long day? Just lock up.”

Sid glances up to Geno’s apartment and says, “Were you watching?”

“Just notice,” Geno says quickly. “Not _watching,_ not weird. Long day.”

“Yeah.” Sid blows out a breath and it curls between them. “Only one client but a lot of stops and starts. It shouldn’t have taken that long but I couldn’t rush her, you know?”

Geno doesn’t but he nods along anyway. Sid watches him, clearly waiting for something more, some reason why he was stopped on his way home from a stressful day.

“Dinner,” Geno says and Sid tips his head slightly to the side. “You hungry? Not know if you stopped to eat.”

“I had a granola bar around 4,” Sid says, “so if you’re offering me some dinner I’ll take you up on it.”

Geno only has leftover Kraft Macaroni and Cheese to feed him, something Sid doesn’t seem at all fussed about as he takes off his coat and unwinds his scarf.

“I must be nice to live so close to work,” Sid says as he sits down at the kitchen table. “Short commute.”

“Yes,” Geno says as he takes the bowl out of the microwave and puts it in front of Sid. “Very easy, but can never take a snow day.”

Geno sits across from him at the tiny table and listens to him vent about the all-day customer, a girl in her twenties who wanted a mountain range across her back.

“It was a really beautiful piece, but it was simple,” he says as he pokes at the macaroni with his fork. “It shouldn’t have taken too long, but she didn’t handle the pain well at all. I started and stopped, started and stopped all day. It’s funny, women usually have a higher tolerance for it.”

“What about you?” Geno asks. “How did you handle your first tattoo?”

Sid shrugs and shoves the fork in his mouth. “It was a long time ago. I don’t really remember.” He catches a glimpse of Geno’s unimpressed look and huffs.

“I cried a little, but you can’t tell Tanger. Promise me.”

Geno smiles then zips up his lips and pretends to throw away the key.

Sid helps him clean up after, even though Geno swears he doesn’t need to.

“You fed me,” Sid says and shoulders past Geno to get to the sink. “Washing out my bowl is the least I could do.”

His bowl turns into Geno’s bowl and then their glasses and the silverware and the pot it was cooked in and whatever else Geno had left in the sink.

Sid’s sleeves keep slipping down his arm and he keeps trying to push it back up using the heel of his hand, but it’s not enough.

Geno sets down the wooden spoon he’s been drying and reaches over.

Sid stops mid-sentence as Geno pulls his sleeve up on his right arm then reaches over to do his left.

There’s a smudge of black ink on his left wrist that catches his eye. _Taylor_ and then several black dots that dip down in a V formation before curling up to the right in a circle.

“Thank you,” Sid says and Geno looks up.

Sid is watching him, eyes slightly hooded and lips parted.

Geno nods before leaning back into his own space.

It’s quiet, just the sound of running water and clinking forks and spoons echoing between them until Geno clears his throat.

“Who is Taylor?” he asks and Sid looks over at him. “On wrist,” Geno says and Sid looks down.

“Oh.” He turns the water off and turns his wrist up towards the light above the sink. “My sister.” He runs his fingertip over the ink and then says, “I know her name is a little … typical, but I was young when I got it. I guess I wasn’t really thinking. If I could do it again I would just get this.” He taps his finger against the dots. “Her zodiac sign. She’s a Pisces.”

“Oh,” Geno says with a nod. “I thought …” He trails off, suddenly embarrassed about what he actually thought and Sid gives him one more sidelong look before turning back to the sink.

“I don’t have any tattoos for an ex,” Sid says, “if that’s what you thought.”

“You don’t like?”

“It’s not that I don’t like it. It’s just … everyone is free to do their own thing with their own bodies and I don’t judge people that get them -- a good chunk of the people who come in are getting tattoos for someone else -- but for me, if I were to do that, they’d have to be really special. I’d have to know that I loved them and they loved me and we were serious. I don’t think I’ve found that. Yet. So for now I only have tattoos for my family.”

“You have more then?”

“I have a poppy on the back of my neck for my great-grandpa.” He turns and tips his head down. Just below the collar of his shirt Geno can see the edge of the flower. Deep red, small and neat. “I have a goalie mask here for my dad.” He touches the left side of his chest and then his right shoulder, the fabric of his shirt turning a dark grey beneath his damp fingers, “and mayflowers here for my mom. They’re her favorite.” Sid reaches into the murky water and pulls out the last glass and Geno looks out the small window over the sink at the street below them.

It’s started to snow. Fat flakes float by the window and fall to the ground. It looks cold and bitter but, right now, tucked against Sid’s side in his 4-foot-by-4-foot kitchen, he has never felt warmer.

“Can I see?” He asks and it seems to startle both of them.

Sid’s hand slips as he turns off the tap and Geno drops the dishrag he’s holding.

“Sorry,” he stutters out. “Bad English. Say wrong things sometimes.”

“It’s okay,” Sid says softly. Out of the corner of his eye Geno watches Sid’s hands as the reach for the hem of his shirt. “You can see if you want to.”

In one fluid motion Sid pulls his shirt over his head and Geno grips the edge of the sink a little tighter.

Sid is all pale skin and clean, black lines.

Two strings of numbers running parallel to each other over his ribs.

A grey seal on his left forearm.

A peek maple leaf on his right hip and on the other side, a hummingbird.

He wants to know the story behind each one. He wants to know when Sid got the whale on his left arm and what he was thinking when he got the bridge that wraps around his bicep.

He wants to know it all. Right now he wants to reach up and touch.

Geno forces his eyes up. Sid’s staring back at him, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth.

“Pretty,” Geno says and Sid breathes out a laugh and ducks his head. Then he squares his shoulders, the paw print and the mayflowers moving on his skin as his muscles work.

“Can I see?” He asks and Geno looks down as Sid’s fingers curl in the hem of his shirt.

“I don’t have anything.”

Sid shrugs one shoulder. “That’s okay. I’m sure it’s still something to see.”

Geno’s whole body flushes as he raises his arms above his head and Sid pulls his shirt up and off. He tosses it on top of his own on the floor and spreads his hands flat across Geno’s abdomen, running them down his sides to cup his hips. He nods once then looks up and meets Geno’s eyes.

“Yeah,” he says, voice quiet and husky. “It’s something.”

Geno bends down. Sid meets him halfway.

Back home, sex is tucked away and hidden. It is rushed and frantic. It’s stolen kisses and whispers that _this doesn’t mean anything_ and _this never happened._

It’s emotionally draining and physically taxing. It’s men leaving marks on his skin like that’s somehow going to make it real even though it always leaves him feeling empty inside. It’s unsatisfying. It’s a means to an end.

Sex with Sid is … fun. It’s light and airy and when Sid laughs as he trips over his own feet and falls backwards into Geno’s bed, Geno knows that this is exactly what has been missing and exactly what he wants.

He wants to taste every inch of Sid’s skin. He wants to press his mouth to the curve of Sid’s shoulder and the center of his chest. The bend of his elbow and the rise of his hip bone. He wants to start at the top and work his way to the bottom then work his way back up again.

He wants to go slow, he wants to _savor._

He has a plan.

“I really like you,” Sid says as he curls his hand around the back of Geno’s neck.

Geno stops and rests his forehead against Sid’s collarbone. He has to catch his breath. He has to calm his heart.

“I just wanted you to know if you didn’t already.”

Geno presses his lips to Sid’s skin, tastes sweat and soap and _happiness_ and he’s not expecting it at all when Sid hooks his foot around the back of his knee and rolls them over.

Geno has a plan and he can’t possibly carry it out while he’s flat on his back but Sid is a welcome and warm weight above him. His skin is flushed and his eyes are bright and he keeps biting his bottom lip as their hips shift against each other.

He had a plan, but right now he’s more than happy to abandon it and go along with whatever Sid has in mind.

After, Geno stays up and traces the Pittsburgh skyline that’s inked onto the back of Sid’s left shoulder. He follows the lines of the buildings back and forth as Sid sleeps with his arms tucked beneath the pillow. The flannel sheet is draped over Sid’s back, cutting the tattoo of a flag, a blue x-shaped cross with a gold crest spanning across his skin.

Eventually Sid stirs and peeks one eye open.

“Feels good,” he whispers and Geno settles his whole hand over Sid’s shoulder blade. “Didn’t have to stop.” He sighs heavily when he turns his head and sees the time on the digital clock on the nightstand. “I should go.”

“You can stay.”

“Tanger is going to give me hell if I come to work in the same clothes I wore yesterday.”

“I can give you some to change into.”

Sid chuckles and rests his head back on the pillow, face tipped up towards Geno. “That’s even worse.”

Geno pulls his hand away as he goes cold all over. Maybe Tanger doesn’t like him. Maybe he doesn’t approve. Maybe he doesn’t even know Sid likes guys. How far does a rainbow sticker really go? What does it really mean?

“He doesn’t like?”

“No, he knows exactly how much I like you, that’s the problem. He knew I liked you before I even knew. Apparently I wouldn’t shut up about how amazing you are that night I went and met the baby. That’s not my fault though. You are amazing.”

Geno laughs and touches Sid’s shoulder again. Sid sighs at the contact.

“I meant what I said,” Sid whispers as he hangs on the edge of sleep. “I really like you. A lot. More than I’ve liked anyone in … a really long time.”

“You just sleepy. Don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Sure I do,” Sid says, but he yawns halfway through it. “Tanger says I was pining but really I was just hoping that you would be looking back.”

Geno wants to tell him that he’s been feeling the same way. That sometimes when they’d wave hello to each other in the morning that was the highlight of his whole day. That it kept him going. By the time the words unjumble in his mouth Sid has fallen back asleep, his breath coming out in warm, even puffs against Geno’s shoulder.

Geno pets Sid’s hair and watches him sleep until the sun comes up.

In the morning Geno leaves Sid in bed, still fast asleep and clutching a pillow, to go and make breakfast and tea.

When Sid stumbles out of the bedroom and down the hall a half-hour later, his hair is a mess but his breath is minty when they kiss.

“I used your mouthwash,” Sid explains and Geno pulls him in close. They kiss until the toast pops up.

“Only have tea,” Geno says as he gently pushes him towards the table to sit. “You’ll like. Is better than coffee.” When he catches a glimpse of Sid’s skeptical face he laughs. “I think you’ll like it. Put jam in it. Is sweet.”

Sid’s frown seems to deepen at the thought and he takes a sip of it straight.

“It’s not bad,” he admits. “But I feel like I’m going to be sending Jake for coffee in a few hours.”

They eat breakfast with their toes touching beneath the table and, when they’re finished, Sid pulls on yesterday’s jeans and one of Geno’s T-shirts and follows him down the stairs to the shop. Sid places his mug beside Geno’s and asks if there’s anything he can do.

Geno hands him a watering can and shows him the spigot in the back room.

“You should get a hose,” Sid complains as he lugs the third can of water out of the back room.

“Try that,” Geno says as he double checks the orders for today. “Too many corners and plants. Keep knocking into things. It’s a big mess.”

“This is a lot of work,” Sid says as he empties the water between two pots of long-stemmed roses. “It’s really heavy.”

“I know. Is why my body is so good,” Geno jokes and Sid meets him with a level stare that slowly works its way down Geno’s body.

“Yeah,” Sid says. “It is.”

Geno goes hot beneath the collar of his shirt and all he wants to do is forget about the shipment of flowers he has coming in at 10:30 and drag Sid back up the stairs and into his bed.

But he has a job to do and, right now, so does Sid, who very seriously waters the succulents to Geno’s exact specifications before backing him against the counter and kissing him until he can’t breathe.

“Going to close shop,” Geno says as he slows the kisses. “Forever. Only do this now.”

Sid laughs against his lips then groans. “I really have to go. I have an early client and, if you’re going to be closing this place up forever, one of us should really be working.”

“Think too much,” Geno says on a sigh as he untangles himself from Sid. “Too practical.”

“I’m just saying, one of us should have the money to take the other out.” He holds Geno’s hands between his own. “Can I see you again?”

“See me anytime you like,” Geno says as they start towards the door. He picks at the edge of the T-shirt Sid’s is wearing. “Come over tonight. Return this.”

“We close so much later than you,” Sid says as Geno unlocks the door and they step onto the sidewalk. “You’ll still be up?”

Geno leans down and grabs the paper. “For you,” he says as he stands up, “I’m always up.”

Sid rolls his eyes but leans in for a kiss, one that immediately deepens and lingers until there’s a sharp wolf whistle from across the street.

Kris has both firsts in the air in triumph as he happily yells at Sid in French. Sid presses his face into Geno’s neck and groans.

“The one day he comes in early,” Sid says, and Geno wraps an arm around his shoulders.

“You worry about T-shirt and this happens.”

“Maybe it’s easier this way,” Sid says with a sigh. Tanger is still shouting at them with a huge smile on his face. “Just tell the whole block at once.”

“Not whole block. Just ones that speak French.”

“I gotta go shut him up. I’ll see you tonight?”

“Will be here.”

Sid looks at him, considering, then leans up and kisses him.

Tanger goes crazy.

-

The day drags on but Geno enjoys it. He feels happier and lighter now that he has something, and someone, to look forward to.

He has three consultations in the afternoon, one right after the other, and he doesn’t even care that the bride can’t decide between daisies and lilies. He sneaks glances across the street at Bridge Ink as he nods along at her pros and cons and listens as she rehashes her color schemes and her dress and the venue. He thinks he catches a glimpse of Sid every so often, wearing his shirt and, maybe, holding back his own excitement at the idea of seeing each other later.

When Geno closes up the shop he pulls on his coat and takes the bus to the grocery store. Sid should have a nice dinner, or at least something more than mac and cheese.

He picks up chicken and a bag of salad then stares at the beer until he decides on something he thinks Sid will like. On his way towards the register he picks up a can of coffee.

When he gets back to his apartment he finds himself more nervous than he was the night before. Now that he knows what to expect and now that Sid has expectations, it’s a lot to live up to.

The chicken is still in the oven when he hears his name being called from the street below. When he opens the window and sticks his head out, Sid’s standing on the sidewalk, bouncing up and down on his toes to keep warm.

“Hey,” he calls up to him. “Your door is locked and I don’t have your number and I didn’t know how else to get your attention. Everyone on this street is going to hate us for sure now.”

“You early.”

Bridge Ink is still open for another 45 minutes.

“I know. Tanger said all I was doing all day was watching the clock and he finally got sick of it. He kicked me out.” He bounces on his toes. “So can I come up?”

Geno closes the window and bounds down the stairs.

Sid tries to help pull dinner together but, in the tiny kitchen, there’s not much he can do except get in the way. He ends up sitting on the counter by the stove, dropping grape tomatoes and cucumber slices into the bowl with the lettuce. He talks about his day and something funny that happened between Kris and Jake and Geno nods along, half listening as he stares at Sid’s hands and the way they move when he speaks.

Sid’s hands go still and it takes a moment for Geno to realize Sid’s also stopped talking. When he looks up, Sid is looking right back at him.

“Hey,” Sid says, like they didn’t say hello downstairs when Geno unlocked the front door for him. He holds his hand out. “Come here.”

Geno takes his hand then steps between Sid’s knees. They kiss until the timer goes off on the oven and then a little bit more, only pulling apart when Geno starts to smell smoke.

The chicken is salvageable but they don’t end up eating much before Sid throws him a heated look and Geno is out of his chair and tugging Sid toward the bedroom by his belt loops.

Sid laughs when he bounces back against the mattress. Geno stands between his knees, again, and looks down at him.

“Hi,” Sid says, a little rougher than before but with the same crooked smile and Geno’s heart …

Geno takes a deep breath and hooks his hands around the back of Sid’s knees. He had a plan last night that he didn’t get to see all the way through. Right now he’s determined.

“Off,” he says as he slides his hands up to Sid’s belt then nods towards the headboard. “Up.”

Sid lifts his hips so Geno can pull off his jeans and then pulls his shirt over his head and pushes himself up the bed. When he reaches for the hem of Geno’s shirt, Geno pushes his hands away and doesn’t give in when Sid pouts.

“That’s not fair.”

Geno shakes his head and runs his hand across Sid’s ribs.

“I make it up to you,” he says and looks up just in time to see Sid swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Okay,” Sid says as he leans back. “Okay.”

Geno starts by peppering Sid’s face in kisses. He can feel Sid’s chest rise and fall rapidly as he silently laughs beneath him, an action that abruptly stops when Geno drops a kiss to the side of his neck and then another right below his ear.

Sid sighs and tips his head to the side to give Geno more room. Geno nips at his skin with his teeth and feels Sid’s breath hitch and his heart thump against his chest.

Geno kisses down one side of Sid’s neck and then up the other before touching his lips to each of the delicate mayflowers that are spilling over his right shoulder. Then he works his way over to the paw print on his left shoulder, dragging his lips over the thin skin over his collarbone.

He kisses the numbers running down Sid’s ribs then looks up for an explanation.

“Cole Harbour,” Sid says as he runs the tips of his fingers down the skin that Geno has just kissed.Then, he moves over to the second set and says “Pittsburgh. I know it’s cliche --.”

Geno interrupts him by making a disagreeable noise and presses his lips to Sid’s skin. “Home,” he says, “not cliche.”

Sid sighs and rakes his hand gently through Geno’s hair as he continues to explore his body.

Sid’s eyelashes are fluttering as he traces the lines of the goalie mask with his tongue and his lips and Geno’s already weak for it. He wants to make Sid feel good, he wants him to feel everything.

He kisses above his heart, which is free of ink, then moves a fraction of an inch over and lets his lips drag against his nipple hoping for a reaction.

Instead of arching up and into the touch like he thought he would, Sid curls in on himself and Geno leans back.

“Don’t like?”

“No, no,” Sid says faintly, like he can’t quite focus on the words. “I like it. A lot. Too much. If you want to take things slow you have to back off. I’ll come just from that. It’s terrible.”

Sid’s cheeks are stained a delicate shade of pink and Geno can see the muscles bunching in his arms where he’s fighting the urge to throw one over his face to hide his embarrassment.

“Okay,” Geno says, then bends his neck and catches one of the dusty pink nipples between his teeth.

“Geno, Geno, Geno,” Sid whines as he tries to squirm away. He cards both his hands through Geno’s hair and tugs him away. “I don’t want this to be over. I want you to keep going.”

“I remember for next time then,” Geno says and Sid sighs happily as he relaxes back onto the mattress.

Geno kisses the bridge on his bicep and the whale and the seal on his forearm. When he gets to the penguin on the inside of his elbow he laughs.

“Don’t make fun,” Sid says as he pokes at Sid’s shoulder.

Geno shakes his head. “Not making fun.” He touches the penguin with the tips of his fingers. It’s round and cartoonish, funny and whimsical when all his other tattoos are a serious set of hard lines. “Is cute.” He looks up at Sid. “Chubby.”

Sid strokes the back of Geno’s neck and says, “When I was a kid my parents took me to the aquarium and they had penguins. There was this really tiny one that still had all its fluffy baby feathers. It was so round and young it just kind of waddled and fell over. I loved it. I wanted to stand there and watch it for hours. My parents actually took turns staying with me while they went off and saw the other animals. It’s a good memory. I wanted to keep it.”

“Cute,” Geno says softly and Sid smiles. He knows he’s not being made fun of. “Perfect. Best.” Geno kisses in a straight line down the middle of Sid’s stomach, tongue dipping into the cut of his abs and around his belly button. He lingers on the maple leaf inked onto one hip before he moves onto the hummingbird on the other.

Sid’s cock is straining against the fabric of his boxers and his hips keeps twitching and twisting up, trying to chase Geno’s mouth each time he leans back.

Geno doesn’t know whether to keep teasing him or finally give in and give Sid what he wants. It would be so easy -- so satisfying -- to exhale over the tented fabric and hear Sid whine in frustration before Geno took pity and finally put his mouth on him.

But Sid’s entire back is unmapped. His broad shoulders and the dip right before the swell of his ass and his _ass …_

Geno sits back on his heels and pats Sid’s stomach.

“Turn over,” he says and Sid blinks up at him.

“What?” he asks quickly. “What the hell?”

“Turn over,” Geno says again. “More to see.”

“There’s more to see right here, too” He rolls his hips up. “G, please.”

Geno smiles down at him and pats his hip. “Over. I make it worth it.”

Fire burns hot behind Sid’s eyes and he flips over, supporting his weight on his knees and elbows. Geno rests his hand in the middle of Sid’s back. The tips of his fingers span from one side of Nova Scotia to the other and his palm settles over the outer edge of the Canadian flag.

He drapes himself over Sid and presses his lips to the poppy at the back of his neck. Geno’s dick fits snuggly against the curve of Sid’s ass and beneath him he feels Sid sigh and drift further down into the mattress.

“Oh,” Sid says dreamily. “Oh, okay.”

Geno works him open slowly, one finger at a time, listening carefully to every sound Sid makes. They’re mostly muffled by the pillow Sid has bunched up beneath his arms. It catches the little whimpers and cries but, sometimes, if Geno crooks his finger just right, Sid will yank his head to the side and moan or swear or say Geno’s name.

It makes Geno hot all over. He hasn’t even done anything yet but there’s a slick sheen of sweat all over his body and his mind is racing with all the things he wants to do.

Tonight won’t be enough. It’s not even the start. He doesn’t think there will ever be enough time.

“Geno,” Sid sighs softly, and Geno slowly pulls out his fingers.

“Hold on,” Geno says. His hand is shaking as he runs it across Sid’s thighs and down his calf, resting briefly at the lighthouse that’s inked into his skin. He wants to know why it’s important to him, but right now he needs to take care of Sid, who is thrusting his hips against the mattress, trying to find some friction.

There’s a box of condoms in the cabinet over the sink in the bathroom. He trips over his feet trying to get there and he knocks a comb and his razor into the sink as his clumsy fingers grab the box.

Sid’s still spread out and panting right where Geno left him. When he hears the box opening and the wrapper crinkling, he turns his head and looks over his shoulder.

They only got as far as handjobs last night and this feels _big._ Like a major step in their relationship. Geno pauses and curls his hand around Sid’s hip.

“This okay?” he asks, and Sid nods. “Should say it, Sid. Want to hear you say it.”

“It’s okay,” Sid says softly. “I want you. I want this.”

That’s all Geno needs to hear.

Sid is tight and hot and even the pillow can’t hide the punched out sounds Sid keeps making.

Geno keeps a steady pace as their skin slips together in a slow slide that drives Geno crazy.

He whispers sweet words in Russian as Sid’s moans get louder and more frequent and, when Sid reaches beneath himself to jerk himself off, Geno beats him to it.

“Fuck, Geno,” Sid groans and Geno snaps his hips. They could come together. He wants to. He knows Sid’s close and and just the thought of that is enough to get Geno right to the edge.

“C’mon, Sid, c’mon, can come,” he says and Sid clamps down around Geno’s dick and comes all over Geno’s hand. Geno comes a moment later with his forehead pressed between Sid’s shoulders. He catches his breath and kisses Sid’s skin.

“Sid?” He asks, and Sid slaps his hand against Geno’s thigh when he tries to pull out.

“Can you just stay there for a second,” he slurs. “I like feeling you.”

Geno groans, grinds back into Sid, and places another open mouth kiss to Sid’s back.

Eventually Geno pulls out and Sid rolls over.

There’s a wet spot on the bed and Sid’s stomach is a sticky mess.

He lays boneless as Geno pads into the bathroom to toss the condom and run a washcloth under warm water. He cleans Sid up then tosses the cloth in the direction of the bathroom before he pulls Sid clear of the damp patch and lays down beside him.

“You have lots of space left. Kris has …” Geno runs his hand up and down his own arm and Sid nods.

“Tanger is a lot more impulsive than me, I guess. For a while it felt like he was getting a new one every day. He decides that he wants one and then figures out exactly what he’s going to get. I like to think about it.”

“Not bad thing. Is permanent. Have to like it forever.”

“Yeah. But Tanger says I think too much. He thinks that I talk myself out of things too easily. If I want it and it makes me happy then I should do it.” Sid shrugs and Geno kisses his shoulder. “He thinks I should live in the moment.”

“If it makes you happy I think maybe he’s right.”

Sid turns on his side to face him and rests a steady hand on Geno’s chest. “Before we got together he said the same thing to me about you. I kept going back and forth trying to figure out if you were into me and he wanted me to just ask you. If it worked out then great and if it didn’t then it would have sucked but then at least I would know, you know?” Geno nods. If he had told Sergei the whole truth about Sid he would have said the same thing.

Geno mirrors Sid and puts his hand over Sid’s heart. “Maybe for that you should have listened to Kris. For tattoos …” He rubs the ink-free spot under his hand. “Maybe you listen to brain.”

Sid frowns and stares intently at the middle of Geno’s chest. His fingers sway back and forth against the stray hairs there. “I don’t know. I think he might be onto something.” His eyes flick up. “I like having space. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll want something really big. I’ve got the room for it.”

“Plenty of room on ass,” Geno jokes as he reaches his hand down Sid’s side to squeeze at his ass.

Sid rolls his eyes and acts like he’s going to roll away but Geno only pulls him closer against his chest.

“Is good ass,” he says. Sid sighs and snuggles closer. “Could fit my whole name on that ass.”

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Sid says with a laugh. “Now I have the room.”

Geno taps his fingers over Sid’s heart. “You leave this empty.”

Sid covers Geno’s hand with his own. “Yes,” he says thickly. “I’m saving it.”

Geno pulls back to look down at him. “You know for what?”

“I think … I think maybe if I ever have kids one day. I’ll put something for them there.”

“You want kids,” Geno asks and Sid shrugs.

“It would be nice. Kids are nice.” Sid’s words are getting sleepy and slow and between one breath and the next Sid’s asleep in his arms.

In the morning Sid comes out of the bedroom and catches Geno staring at the can of coffee in his hand as the water boils on the stove for his tea.

“What’s wrong?” Sid asks as he tugs down the hem of the shirt he’s thrown on. He puts his hand on Geno’s waist and peers over his shoulder at the can. “You have coffee?”

“Yes,” Geno says slowly. “Bought coffee last night, but just remember I don’t have coffeemaker. Only drink tea, never need one before.”

“You bought coffee? For me?”

“Know you don’t like tea. Wasn’t thinking about making it … just thought --.”

Sid kisses him mid-explanation and Geno drops the coffee can. It bounces off his foot and rolls beneath the kitchen table as Sid presses him back against the counter.

“I can’t believe you got me coffee,” Sid says between kisses.

Geno runs his hands up the back of Sid’s shirt and holds him closer.

“Can’t make it. Useless.”

Sid huffs a laugh against Geno’s jaw then slides gracefully to his knees. “Definitely not useless.”

Geno gets the shop opened with only seconds to spare and Sid stumbles across the street with a dark red flush that dips below the collar of his shirt.

Geno buys a cheap coffee pot online. When it’s delivered they stand elbow to elbow in the kitchen and watch the water drip slowly into the pot.

-

Telling Sergei is awkward but necessary. He’s spent the past two weeks dodging him and the only way Geno is going to get him to stop feeling sorry for him or trying to set him up with co-workers or a friend of a friend is to tell him.

They’re only five minutes into their weekly phone call and Geno has already heard about four separate men that Sergei and Ksenia agree would be good for him when he blurts out, “I slept with Sid.”

Sergei is quiet and Geno’s face burns with embarrassment.

“Sid,” Sergei says slowly and Geno nods even though he can’t be seen.

“From across the street. Tattoos. Painted the front window. I brought him cookies for Christmas.”

“Yeah, I know who Sid is. I was just thinking that I owe Ksenia some money. She made a bet that there was something going on between you two and I told her there’s no way, you would have told me.”

“It just happened,” Geno says with a sigh and then quickly adds, “I wanted it to happen. Didn’t really plan on it.”

“Is it serious?”

“It’s only been a few weeks.”

“Zhenya.”

“What?”

“If he’s not serious then you’re only going to get hurt. I know how you are.”

“And how am I?” Geno asks, defensive.

Sergei sighs. “You’re serious. You want serious. You didn’t come all the way over here for something you could have gotten back in Russia. You want a relationship. Am I wrong?” Sergei is exactly right. Geno wants a relationship. He wants love and companionship and kids, someday.

“He likes me,” Geno says softly, thinking of the way Sid’s eyes had looked as he said it that first night. “I like him.”

“That’s a good start. I don’t mean to bring you down, Zhenya, really I don't. I just want you to be careful. Don’t let your heart go too fast, okay?”

“I won’t,” Geno says, sounding more than a little melancholy. “Have to go.”

Sergei sighs heavily. “Maybe I said too much.”

“No, no, you’re right. I should be careful. Sid is …” He’s wonderful. He could have anyone he wanted and it’s not impossible to think he’s only interested in Geno because he’s nearby. Who wouldn’t turn down a sure thing right across the street. “It’s still new.”

“You should come by for dinner,” Sergei says, changing the subject so quickly it takes Geno’s mind a moment to catch up. “The girls miss you.”

Geno leans back against the counter and sighs. “I miss them too.”

-

Even though he knows Sergei is right, it’s hard to keep his heart in check when Sid is knocking on the door to the flower shop every night and greets Geno with a kiss when he opens the door. Eventually Geno stops locking the door altogether and waves Sid in from behind the work counter. After a few more times Sid stops waiting for an invitation and walks right in. He slides up beside Geno and asks him about his day while Geno finishes cleaning up for the evening.

When he’s done Sid follows him upstairs with his fingers hooked into the back pocket of his pants. They make dinner together -- something light since it’s so late -- or they go out. There’s a dive bar that’s open late only a few blocks away and, even though Geno balks at the time, Sid waves him off and says, “ _You seem like a night owl.”_

Geno’s not sure what that means but he follows Sid to the bar and eats a greasy cheeseburger and fries and lets Sid list into his side as he downs his second beer.

Sid is warm and pliant on the way back to Geno’s apartment and his kisses taste like stale, cheap beer but Geno deepens one of those kisses and pulls him closer.

The sex is good, _great,_ and happens more often than he’s used to, but Geno finds himself enjoying the quiet nights just as much. He’s completely charmed when Sid falls asleep in front of the TV to the local news or when Geno comes out of the shower to find him curled up in bed, lips parted and breath even.

More and more of Sid’s belongings start showing up in his apartment. A toothbrush and a stick of deodorant and more shirts and socks and underwear than Geno can keep track off. They get mixed together with Geno’s own laundry and he washes them together.

“I’m going to smell like you all day,” Sid says as he picks through the pile for a fresh shirt to wear.

Geno freezes with only one leg in his pants. “Is bad thing?”

Sid pulls a shirt over his head then sniffs at the collar. He smiles at Geno and says, “Not at all.”

It seems like an awful lot of work to put into something that’s supposed to be casual, but Sergei’s warning still rings sharp in his head.

It’s one more thing to worry about that keeps him up at night.

After Sid falls asleep, he slips out from beneath his arm and heads down to the shop to get a jump on planning out the next days orders or to watch television quietly in the living room.

Being with Sid is amazing, but it’s done little to quiet the doubts that echo around his head at all hours of the night.

Usually he sneaks back into bed right before the alarm is set to go off and regathers Sid’s in his arms. Sid makes a soft noise in his sleep and shuffles closer and Geno’s heart aches because he wants this forever but he’s not sure he’ll get to keep it.

He’s always careful not to wake Sid. There’s no reason they both should be up. He’s so careful, until one early morning he opens up the bedroom door and finds Sid looking back at him.

“Do you ever sleep?”

Geno freezes in the doorway and Sid pushes himself up in his elbows. The covers slip down to his waist and the moonlight washes over his skin.

“Every time I wake up you’re either playing on your phone or in the bathroom or in the kitchen … I’ve never actually seen you sleep. You look tired,” he says gently. “I’ve been noticing it more and more. I’m worried.”

“I sleep,” Geno says, and it’s true, he does, even if it’s not very often and not as much as he should. “Hard sometimes.”

Sid nods and asks quietly, “Is it me? Do you need more space? Because I understand that. I mean, I’ve been sleeping over a lot but I just really like your place; it’s cozy. But if you need some distance I understand.” He pulls the covers off his legs and puts his feet on the ground. “I can spend more time at my place.”

Geno rushes across the room and gets one knee up on the bed so he can pull Sid back into it. “Not you, Sid. Promise. Don’t want you to go.”

“Then what is it?” He cups Geno’s face with his hand and tips his chin up. “You can tell me, I want to help.”

Geno leans into the touch and sighs. “Lots of worry,” he finally says and Sid lets go of his face to reach for his hand. “Worry about business and family back home. English.”

“Your English is great.”

“Still worry I say wrong thing to customer.” He looks up. “Or you.”

“Why do you worry about that?”

Geno watches the way Sid’s thumb brushes back and forth over the back of his hand and tries to find the words. “Back home,” he starts slowly, “guys … they not serious. Don’t want serious. Can’t. Doesn’t mean anything. Is just sex. But with you …”

“It’s more than just sex?”

“Don’t know what I’m doing with you,” he says. When Sid frowns at him, he pulls his hand away from Sid’s grasp and covers his face. “See, say wrong thing.”

“It’s not wrong,” Sid says as he tugs at Geno’s wrists. “I just don’t understand. You don’t know what you’re doing with me?”

“Never do this before,” Geno explains. “Relationship.”

“I don’t really have a lot of experience either,” Sid says. “I like you.”

Geno nods and waits for more. When it doesn’t come he says, “I hear before. Usually have _but_ afterward.”

“No,” Sid says on a laugh. “There’s no _but._ I like you, that’s it and I think this thing could really be something. I want it to be. Do you?”

Geno nods. It already is something, more than he ever expected for himself. Mostly, more than he ever thought he deserved.

“Is there something I can do to help you sleep?” Sid asks. “A tea or maybe we could get one of those white noise machines? My sister uses one while she’s at school and she says it puts her right out.”

Geno presses his lips together. He has tried all the teas he can get his hands on, including ones shipped straight from Russia, and he likes the noise that filters in from the street.

Sid’s still looking up at him, waiting patiently for Geno to tell him anything he can do to help make his life easier, and Geno knows what he wants. What he aches for.

He stretches out beside Sid and tugs Sid’s arm around his middle.

“Oh,” Sid says as Geno tucks his head beneath Sid’s chin. “You want me to hold you?”

“Just until I fall asleep,” Geno says, “if I can fall asleep. I think it might help.”

Sid tightens his arm and busses a kiss to the top of Geno’s head. “I’ll hold you for as long as you want. I’m not going anywhere.”

Geno closes his eyes while Sid runs his hand up and down his arm.

His mind quiets and he falls asleep.

-

“You sound … better,” Sergei tells him at the end of the week. “Well rested. Send me a photo right now.”

“Of what?”

“Of you. I want to compare the bags under your eyes.”

“Fuck off,” Geno says flatly but he smiles when Sid looks up from the counter in concern. “I’m good.”

“You sound good. You sound happy.”

Geno watches Sid try and fail to arrange carnations in mason jars. Sid takes a deep breath, carefully dumps out the flowers and tries again. Geno’s heart feels fit to burst.

“Zhenya?”

“Yes,” Geno says, “very happy.”

-

It’s not impossible to work while Sid’s hands wander around the waistband of his jeans but it’s a near thing.

Sid’s stopped over for lunch and Geno’s maybe 30 seconds away from finishing the final arrangement for a bridal shower. He’d probably be done by now if Sid had kept his hands to himself, but it feels nice, being wanted like that, and Geno isn’t going to ask him to stop.

“So,” Sid says as he tugs at Geno’s belt loop. “Exactly how hungry are you?”

Geno hums. “Could eat,” he says, and Sid finally slips his hand beneath Geno’s shirt.

“Could you maybe do something else instead?” Geno looks down at him and recognizes the look in Sid’s eyes. It’s the same one that’s there when he hauls him in by the front of his apron as soon as he walks through the door or when they first wake up and they’re both already hard and aching.

“Ah,” Geno says with a teasing smile on his lips. “You not hungry, you horny.”

Sid pulls on the tie of Geno’s apron. “It’s been a few days.”

It’s been three days since they’ve had sex and while Geno doesn’t think that’s very much considering how long he went without it before he met Sid, Sid apparently thinks otherwise.

“You really want me that bad?” Sid slides off the stool he’s been sitting on and noses at the side of Geno’s neck. “That should be pretty obvious by now.”

Geno hums and continues clipping.

“You think I should get one of those signs for the front does that says, ‘S _orry, be back in 5 minutes; gone to have sex with boyfriend’?_ ” He almost drops the sweet peas and the shears. _Boyfriend_ just slipped out. They haven’t talked about it or named this. Geno has hopes but he doesn’t know what this is.

“I don’t know if I could get it done in five minutes,” Sid says, his fingers still tangled in the ties of the apron. “But I could try.”

Geno slowly sets down the flowers and the shears. “Go lock the door.”

Sid gives one last tug on his apron and smiles.

Five minutes later they’re still stuck outside Geno’s apartment door. Sid has him pressed against the wall with his lips firmly attached to Geno’s neck and Geno keeps his hands busy as they try to work their way beneath Sid’s shirt.

“Been longer than five minutes,” Geno points out, and Sid nips at his jaw.

“This doesn’t count. The time starts when I get my mouth on you.”

“Mouth on me now.”

Sid leans back and raises an eyebrow. “Open the door, Geno.”

Geno tries to steer Sid towards the couch but Sid grabs him by the hand and pulls him into the bedroom.

“Easier on my knees,” Sid says as he places his hand in the middle of Geno’s chest and pushes him onto the bed.

Sid glances over at the clock before he pulls his shirt over his head and drops it on the floor.

“Okay,” he says as he licks his lips and looks him over. Geno already feels like a mess. “Ready?”

Geno nods because it’s all he can do. Sid throws his forearm over his hips to pin him in place but it’s pointless. Geno goes boneless beneath him as soon as Sid gets his mouth around him.

Time speeds up then stops and he has absolutely no idea how long it’s been when he starts to feel his stomach tighten. He bats ineffectively at Sid’s shoulders as a warning before he’s finally able to get it together enough to curl his fingers into Sid’s hair and drags him up his body.

Sid says, “I wanted you to come in my mouth,” at the same time Geno says, “I want to kiss you,” and they stare at each other for a moment before Sid laughs. He wraps one hand around the back of Geno’s neck and jerks him off, slow and steady, with the other.

“Gonna be longer than five minutes if you that slow,” Geno slurs. He can feel the smile on Sid’s lips when he presses them to his temple. Sid twists his wrist and a half-stroke later Geno comes all over Sid hand and his own stomach.

Geno catches his breath and draws a hand through the mess on his stomach Sid shifts up onto his elbow beside him and looks down.

“If you had come in my mouth you wouldn’t need a shower,” Sid says.

Geno has just enough energy to roll him over and return the favor.

-

The following night Geno does the unthinkable.

He leaves tomorrow’s work for tomorrow and walks across the street to pick Sid up for their date.

They’re going to the movies and, even though it doesn’t start for another hour, Geno knows Sid likes to be there early.

Jake smiles at him when he walks through the front door and tells him that Sid’s just finishing up with a customer.

“He’ll only be a few more minutes,” Jake tells him. “I know he’s looking forward to it.”

“Is just a movie,” Geno tells him as he sits down to wait.

“Not when it’s with you,” Jake says under his breath.

Geno gives him a funny look but doesn’t push it. He can just see Sid’s work station from where he’s sitting.

The customer he’s working on is sitting in a chair with her feet up while her friend sits beside her. They’re young, still in college if Geno had to guess, and pretty, and they keep looking at each other over Sid’s head as he bends his head to concentrate on the tattoo on the blonde’s foot.

“That’ll do it,” he says as he sits up straight and puts the tattoo gun down. He pulls off the gloves and asks, “What do you think?”

“It looks great,” she says and her friend nudges her with her elbow. “Thanks so much.”

There’s another jab by her friend before she tucks a strand of hair behind ear and looks at Sid. “So there’s this party on campus tonight,” she starts. “We were just wondering if you guys wanted to come.”

Her friend looks over at Kris, who is filling out paperwork at his own station. “Totally casual. We could hang out.”

Kris raises his left hand and points at the ring and the girls share a disappointed look.

“What about you?” one of the girls asks Sid and Sid smiles and shakes his head.

“I have plans with my boyfriend tonight.” Sid waves and Geno waves back sheepishly as the girls look him over.

“He can come, too,” one of them says and Sid laughs.

“That’s really nice of you, but I think we’re really looking forward to this movie. I’m going to bandage this up,” Sid says, slipping into professionalism and the girls both nod along as they listen to Sid’s careful step-by-step instructions.

“Could have gone with them,” Geno says as they’re walking to the movies. They’re only a few blocks away from the theater and he’s been biting his tongue the whole time.

Sid’s eyebrows knit together like he’s confused.

“But we’re going to the movies.”

Geno shrugs. “Just saying. Party … might be fun.”

“I think I outgrew my college party days.”

“Girls don’t think so,” Geno mumbles and Sid stops walking and puts his hand on Geno’s arm.

“I’m not into those girls, Geno. I think I made it pretty clear this morning how _not_ into them I am.”

Geno blushes and thinks about the mouth-shaped bruise Sid left on the cut of his hip.

“I want to be here with you,” Sid says. He looks down at Geno’s hand, stuffed into his coat pocket and, after a moment's hesitation, pulls it out and threads their fingers together. His hand is very warm.

This is more than Geno ever could have imagined back in Russia. Even in Pittsburgh, the thought of holding the hand of someone he’s very quickly falling for in the middle of a crowded sidewalk was beginning to feel like an impossible feat.

“Okay?” Sid asks, and Geno squeezes his hand in response.

“Going to be late for movie. Know you want candy.”

“Of course I do, that’s the whole reason for going to the movies.”

“Have candy at home. Could have stayed there and made out on the couch.”

“If we hurry up we can get a seat in the back row and make out there.”

Geno laughs and lets their hands swing together between them.

“Boyfriend,” Geno says once they’ve made it another block. The word tips up at the end like he’s asking a question and Sid hums in response. “You told those girls I was your boyfriend.”

Sid trips over nothing and Geno pulls him fully upright again by the hand that he’s still holding. “You called me that yesterday, I thought --”

“Slipped out,” Geno admits. “Didn’t think, just said it. But then you don’t talk about it and I don’t talk about it and I just … is good word?”

“For us? I don’t know what else you’d call us. And I like it,” Sid says as he gives Geno’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Maybe we’re a little too old but --”

“Never have anyone call me that before,” Geno interrupts. “I like it.”

“Then that’s what we’ll be,” Sid says quickly and tugs on Geno’s hand. “Now come on. We don’t want to be late.”

-

“Do your parents know about you?”

The question comes out of nowhere as Geno is attempting to make them dinner. Geno stops stirring the mac and cheese and looks over at him.

Sid’s put down the pen but he’s still clutching the paper in his hands. He’s supposed to be working on the crossword puzzle but Geno knows he’s been doodling in the margins of the print for the last twenty minutes. “You keep saying you’ve never done this before -- you’ve never had a boyfriend -- I’m just wondering how much people back home know. You don’t have to tell me, I was just curious. Tell me to fuck off if you want, really, I won’t blame you.”

“They know enough,” Geno says and Sid presses his lips together. “They know why I have to come here. They know maybe my brother is only hope for grandchildren. They know to tell people I’m too busy to date so they don’t ask about girlfriends. But I don’t tell them. I don’t talk about it.”

“Is that … are you okay?”

Geno shrugs. “I am … I’m here. Happier here. When my mama calls I talk about Sergei and flowers and weather.” He looks over at Sid. He’s beautiful in the low light. “I don’t talk about you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Geno, god. It’s okay.” Sid drops the leg that was crossed over his knee to the floor and leans forward. He puts his hands palms up on the table. Geno turns the stove off and sits down. He covers Sid’s hands with his own. “You don’t have to talk about me. It’s okay.”

Geno nods but he feels like it’s wrong. Sid makes him so happy, his parents should know that.

“Your parents know,” he asks and Sid graciously allows him to shift focus.

“Yeah. They’ve known since I was 18.”

“They okay with it?” he asks and then follows it up with, “They more okay with that or with tattoos?” and Sid smiles.

“I actually told them about both things at the same time.”

Geno pulls his hand back and rests his chin in his palm and his elbow on the table.

“Sid,” he says with a big smile.

“I came home with this.” He twists his wrist and shows off Taylor’s name. “I think they were trying to figure out if they were touched or angry and for some reason I thought that would be a good time to tell them that the friend that I went to get it with was more than just a friend.”

“How’d they take it?”

“They were more upset about the tattoo,” Sid says with a laugh. “They said boys come and go but this was forever.”

“What was the boy like?”

Sid raises an eyebrow. “Do you really want to know?”

Geno shakes his head. He really doesn’t want to know about the guy -- or any of the guys -- that made their way into Sid’s life before him.

“Was he nice?” he asks and Sid nods.

“Yeah. He was nice. We were just kids, we didn’t know what we were doing. He went off to college in Vancouver and, aside from a few emails, that was it. After a month it stopped completely. I actually never even saw him again.”

“You ever think about him?”

“I think about being that young and stupid, but not about him.” He stares off into middle distance for a moment, like he’s remembering something just out of reach, then focuses back on Geno. “Do you ever think about going home?”

“To visit?”

Sid starts by nodding then tips his head from side to side in a vague gesture. He means home for good.

“No,” Geno says with a sharp shake of his head. “No. Don’t think.”

“But it’s your home.”

Geno pulls his chair forward, the legs scraping on the floor as he moves. He presses his hand over Sid’s rib cage, where he knows the coordinates for Pittsburgh are. Through Sid’s shirt, he taps his fingers against the numbers.

“New home,” he says and Sid smiles softly. “Think I’ll stay.”

-

“And how is Sid?”

Geno readjusts the phone between his ear and his shoulder. “He’s good,” Geno says and thinks back to their conversations they’ve had lately. “He likes to talk about his feelings.”

“Artists,” he laughs, but it sounds fond. “When are we going to meet him?”

Geno hadn’t thought about that. They’ve been together for months now. The snow has begun to melt and the spring flowers will soon be working their way out of the newly thawed soil. Time is moving forward and so is their relationship.

“Ksenia keeps asking me to ask you to invite him over for dinner, so this is me formally inviting the both of you over for dinner.”

“Oh.”

“You guys seem serious, yes?”

“Yes, of course. Very serious.”

“Is there a day that would work best for you and Sid? I don’t know his schedule … Zhenya? Are you still there?” “Yes. Sorry. Dinner?”

“Yes,” Sergei says after a long pause. “Dinner. Do you think Sid would like to come?” He’s sure Sid would. He would probably love it.

“Have to ask him. He works a lot, you know. It’s just him and Kris. He works late most nights.”

“How in the world did you manage to find someone who works harder than you?”

“Just luck, I guess.”

“There has to be a time when he can come. We don’t mind eating late, but the girls won’t be up. I think they’ll be disappointed if they don’t get to see you …”

It’s a dirty but effective trick.

“I’ll ask him. Maybe he can get out early and Kris can cover for him.”

“I’m sure it’ll work out,” Sergei says. “We can’t wait to meet him.”

Geno drags his feet when it comes to asking Sid about the dinner.

He knows he needs to do it. Sergei isn’t going to forget and Geno doesn’t put it past him to swing by Coming Up Roses and then wandering across the street to ask Sid himself.

“Hey,” Sid nudges his toes into Geno’s thigh and Geno looks over. Sid is sitting sideways on the couch beside him with a bowl of ice cream propped against his chest. “You’ve been quiet. Are you okay?”

Geno sighs and says, “Get call from Seryozha. Wants to invite us to dinner.”

“Oh,” Sid says as he spoons a bite of ice cream into his mouth. “Is that all?” “Wants to invite us,” Geno says, squeezing Sid’s toes to accentuate his point. “Us. Both of us.”

“And you’re worried about it because ...”

“Not sure if you want to go.”

“Of course I do.” Sid swings his legs off the side of the couch, puts his bowl on the coffee table, and inches closer to Geno. “He’s important to you, right? The whole family? Of course I want to meet them. Just tell me when.”

“Is up to you. Seryozha says they can have us anytime. Don’t know your schedule.”

Sid gives him a flat look.

“You know my schedule. I can work something out with Tanger.”

“Oh. So easy.”

Sid narrows his eyes.

“Is there a reason you don’t want me to go?”

“No. I think they’ll like you.”

“Of course they’ll like me,” Sid says as he picks up the bowl and tucks his feet beneath Geno’s thigh. “You can relax. It’s going to be fine.”

-

Plans are made for the following Friday at 6:30.

At 5:30 Geno looks up from his work and watches Sid cross the street looking very unlike himself in dress pants, a dress shirt and a tie.

“You going for job interview,” Geno asks when Sid steps through the door. Geno rounds the counter towards him as Sid smooths his hand down his tie.

“What?” “Why the fancy shirt? Why the tie? You have gel in hair?” He reaches out to touch but Sid bats his hand away.

“You’re going to mess it up. Don’t.”

“Why are you dressed like this?” “I want to make a good first impression.”

Sid keeps fidgeting, pulling at his sleeves and adjusting the tie and Geno furrows his brow.

“You nervous, Sid?”

“Of course I’m nervous,” Sid snaps and Geno gasps. “I want them to like me.”

“You tell me to relax,” Geno says as he points his finger. “You tell me everything going to be okay and now you nervous?”

“It’s going to be okay for you, Geno. They know you. They already like you. They could hate me.”

“You tell me they’re going to love you.”

“Yeah, well ... I have misplaced confidence.”

“Sidney,” Geno says gently, and Sid rolls his eyes as Geno holds his face in his hand and tips his chin up. “They’re going to love you, but not if you show up like this. So stiff and awkward.” He slides his hands into Sid’s hair and wrinkles his nose. “Crunchy.”

“Shut up,” Sid says but he leans forward into Geno’s chest. “It just hit me that this is a big deal. It’s like I’m meeting your family. I need them to like me.”

“You think they’ll like you with fancy clothes? You need to be yourself. Come upstairs and find something.”

Sid recoils.

“I can’t wear anything up there. I wear that stuff to work.”

“So?”

“So I’m way too casual at work. There’s a balance.”

Geno sighs.

“You have … balanced clothes at apartment?” he asks and Sid nods. “Then we go there. You change, wash hair, then we go have dinner.”

“We don’t have time. We’re gonna be late.”

“Have plenty of time. You here very early.”

“But with traffic --”

Geno leans in and brushes his lips against Sid’s.

“Going to be fine. Promise.”

Sid lives in a loft a few blocks from the tattoo parlor. It’s open and airy and Geno can imagine it bathed in light during the day.

Sid drops his keys into a bowl by the door and then hurries over to the dresser beside his bed and throws open the middle drawer.

Geno takes a moment to take a good look around from where he’s standing. There aren’t any dishes in the sink, clean or dirty, and the only thing on the counter is a sleek coffee maker.

“Here,” Sid says suddenly and steps back from the dresser. He holds up a plain black polo, simple and boring, and Geno nods. “Should it be long sleeved?”

“Is warm out.”

“Yeah, but my tattoos.”

“Oh, Sid,” he says gently. “They won’t care about that. They know what you do for a living. They know what to expect. They won’t judge.”

Sid looks down at his feet.

“Some people don’t like them.”

Geno crosses the floor, puts his hands on Sid’s shoulders and shakes him gently but Sid doesn’t look up. Sid’s always been so sure of himself, so quietly confident. Geno had no idea all this was going on. He wants to know who has judged him in the past to make him feel this way.

“I like them,” he says. “I like all of you. I know these people and I know they won’t judge but, if they do, we leave right away and I’ll never come back.”

“You can’t say that.”

“Sure I can. That’s how well I know it won’t happen and how much I like you. I can promise. Now go change.” He ruffles Sid’s hair. “Take a shower.”

“I don’t have time for a shower. I might just stick my head under the faucet.”

Geno rolls his eyes and pushes him towards the bathroom. “Take a shower. Full shower. We have time.”

“We don’t. Not really.”

“Wasting time by arguing.”

Sid sighs heavily and starts the shower while Geno sits down on the edge of Sid’s perfectly made bed.

There’s a sketchbook on the nightstand and Geno leans forward far enough to see inside the bathroom to check that Sid is still in the shower. He can just make out the shape of him behind the curtain and slowly leans back. It’s not snooping if Sid left it out. He flips open the front cover then snaps his hand back and folds it in his lap. The shower is still running and now the book is open, so Geno snatches it off the nightstand and begins to thumb through it.

There are vague sketches on the first few pages. Geometric shapes and outlines of human figures, clearly done quickly without a lot of detail. There are sketches of bridges around the city and the skyline. There are dogs and cats and a hockey player dressed head to toe for a game. Geno turns the pages slowly, letting his eyes trace each line of charcoal before moving onto the next sketch.

He pauses on a page full of flowers. Roses and daisies and tulips and a peony right in the center, larger than the rest and more intricately drawn. He touches the petals with his fingertip and curses when the lines smudge. He hopes Sid won’t notice and wipes his hand on the side of his jeans. The next page is of Bridge Ink from the perspective of Geno’s kitchen window and the one after that is a more refined sketch of the one that Sid gave him at Christmas of Coming Up Roses. It’s beautiful, but he prefers the one Sid made for him at the kiddie table.

The shower shuts off and he’s going to put the book back but the sketch on the next page catches his eye. It’s a man with dark hair and a prominent nose and it takes him a second to realize that it’s him. So is the man on the next page and the page after that. The sketches are of him looking down at the flowers in his hands or just his hands holding a succulent in a small pot in his palms. He’s smiling and then serious and then, on the last page he’s asleep, chest bare and his eyelashes fanned out against his cheek, lips just barely parted. It’s beautiful. They all are, and that must be the way that Sid sees him. Sid thinks he’s _beautiful._

Geno jumps when Sid steps out of the bathroom, fully dressed and rubbing a towel over his hair. Geno shoves the book back on the nightstand and sits on his hands just as Sid lowers the towel and looks at him.

“My hair will probably be dry by the time we get there, right? Are you sure I shouldn’t put anything in it? It’s been a while since I’ve gotten a haircut and it might curl a little weird.” He points to his left temple. “Especially on this side. It’s always given me a hard time.”

Geno stands and pulls Sid’s hand away from where it’s trying to flatten his hair.

“You look great,” he says softly as he pushes Sid’s hair back. “Beautiful.”

The ride to Sergei’s is quiet but tense. Even though Sid is fully concentrated on the directions that Geno has given him, Geno can still feel the tension rolling off of him in waves. His bottom lip is pulled tight between his teeth and he keeps drumming his fingers on the wheel. If he didn’t have his foot on the gas, Geno’s sure it would be bouncing up and down. Still, Geno reaches over and covers Sid’s knee with his palm.

He doesn’t say anything but the rigid line of Sid’s shoulders begins to melt away into something resembling comfort, which lasts until they pull into the driveway and Sid’s shoulders hike back up around his ears.

“Sid.”

“I know, I know. It’s going to be fine.”

Geno pries Sid’s hand off the steering wheel and presses a kiss to the center of his palm. “You’re right. Is definitely going to be fine.”

They make it halfway up the walkway to the house before Sid pulls his hand away and starts back for the car.

“Sidney, don’t run away.”

“I’m not,” he says as he unlocks the car, opens the back door and pulls out a bottle and two square boxes. “I almost forgot. That would have been terrible, letting them think I’d show up empty-handed.”

“What is it?”

“Wine for the grown ups,” Sid says as he shows off the bottle. “And chocolates for the girls.” A horrified look crosses his face. “They don’t have any allergies, do they?” Geno shakes his head then takes Sid’s face between his hands and kisses him hard enough to back him against the side of the car. Sid makes a soft noise into the kiss and almost drops the bottle and the chocolates but Geno just pressed closer so they’re trapped between their chests.

“They’re perfect,” Geno says when he pulls back. He strokes at Sid’s hair, still a little damp, but it doesn’t look like Sid cares at all about it now. “They’ll love.”

Sid nods then drops his eyes down to Geno’s lips and if this is what it takes to finally get him to calm down then Geno would stands outside with him all night.

Their lips barely get a chance to brush before the front door swings open and Sergei calls out to them.

“Are you two planning on coming in sometime tonight or should we start dinner without you?” Sid gasps and pushes Geno away and Geno shakes his head.

“Going to kill him,” he says as he raises his middle finger towards the front door, where Sergei cackles. “Long and painful death.”

“That was a terrible first impression,” Sid says slowly as his face burns a bright red. “I don’t think that could have been worse.”

“Kiss was good though, yes?” Sid rolls his eyes and begins their slow march towards the house.

Once inside, Sergei doesn’t stop smirking at them until Ksenia slaps the back of her hand against his chest and swears in Russian, using her sweet tone to cover up the severity of the word.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” she says and Sid juggles the bottle and the boxes into Geno’s arms so he can take her hand. “We’ve heard so much about you.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you, too,” he says and then looks at Sergei. “The both of you. Geno’s told me about everything that you’ve done for him and it’s just …” He takes a deep breath and blindly reaches for the wine in Geno’s hands. “I brought wine.”

Sergei takes the bottle from him and reads the label. “It’ll go nicely with dinner,” he says and Sid finally smiles.

“He also brought chocolates for the girls,” Geno says. “Surprised they’re not down here already.”

On cue, footsteps come thundering down the stairs and there’s a flash of swinging ponytails before two little girls attach themselves to Geno’s legs.

“Zhenya, it’s been forever,” Natalie pouts and Geno tucks the chocolates beneath his arms so he can put a hand on both their heads.

“I saw you three weeks ago.”

“That’s forever,” Victoria whines, but then her eyes widen when she spots the boxes. “Did you bring us a present?”

“I didn't, but Sid did.”

The girls turn on their heels and stare up at Sid. Sid smiles down and waves. Adults are hard but kids are so easy.

“Are you Zhenya’s boyfriend,” Natalie asks and Sid nods.

“I brought you chocolates,” he says and takes the boxes from Geno before handing them to the girls, who immediately light up.

“What do you say,” Sergei asks and Sid is met with two very polite thank you’s.

“Can we eat it now?” Natalie asks her mother and Ksenia shakes her head.

“After dinner. One piece. Maybe. You have to eat your vegetables.”

“But Mom …” They both wail and Geno tugs Sid to the side as both of the girls stomp off farther into the house.

Ksenia rolls her eyes but she’s smiling when she tells Sid and Geno to go take a seat in the dining room.

“You don’t need help with anything?” Sid asks but Geno already has his hand on the small of Sid’s back, pushing in the direction the girls went.

“Everything is under control, Sid. Promise.”

Dinner is a simple but delicious roast chicken with potatoes and carrots. Sergei and Ksenia decided to play it safe, even though Geno assured them Sid would happily eat anything.

Natalie and Victoria dominate the conversation as they talk about what they learned in school today. Sid seems to relax more and more as the girls talk and Geno watches him fondly as he asks questions about their teacher and what their favorite subject is.

“Do you have any siblings, Sid?” Ksenia asks, and Sid nods.

“I have a sister.”

“Is she annoying sometimes?” Natalie asks as she shoots Victoria a sideways glance.

Sid laughs.

“We had our moments when we were younger. She’s 10 years younger than me, but we’re still really close.” He holds out his wrist. “I got my first tattoo for her.”

Natalie leans up to look at the tattoo then studies the other visible ones on his arms and wrinkles her nose.

“Are all your tattoos so boring?”

“Natalie,” Geno snaps and Ksenia begins to apologize while Sergei scolds her in Russian.

Sid just laughs and tells them all it’s okay.

“They’re not _boring,_ I guess,” Natalie explains. “There’s just no color. When I get a tattoo,” she says and Sergei scoffs, “I’m going to have lots and lots of color.” She looks at Sid. “Can you do them, Sid?”

“I actually think you’d have better luck with my co-worker,” Sid says. “I’ve always liked things a bit more simple. He has a better eye for color.” He glances at Sergei and quickly adds, “When you’re old enough, of course.”

Geno pats Sid’s thigh beneath the table and smile at him, soft and fond.

Dessert is angel food cake topped with fresh fruit and whipped cream but Natalie and Victoria elect to eat their chocolates instead, each sneaking an extra piece while their mother and father ask Sid about growing up in Canada.

“I think you’ve had enough,” Ksenia tells them as she takes a sip from her coffee and they both put the boxes down.

“Can we show Sid our toys?” Natalie asks.

“I think he’s still eating his dessert,” Sergei says and Sid puts his fork down.

“I can go. Unless you want me to stay and help clean up?” Ksenia waves him off.

“That’s all right. We can take care of it,” and Natalie and Victoria spring from their chairs.

“Мы поговорим о тебе,” Sergei says and Sid glances at Geno.

“I don’t know what that means.”

“He said they’re going to talk about you,” Natalie says as she and Victoria tug at his hands.

“Only good things,” Geno assures him and Sid lets himself be pulled from his chair and dragged into the living room.

There’s a moment of silence after they turn the corner and then Ksenia leans forward and whispers, “He’s wonderful.”

Geno smiles bashfully and stacks his empty plate on top of Sid’s. “I know.”

“I mean it. He’s great. He’s funny and he’s sweet and it’s so obvious he adores you.” She leans a little closer. “And that butt.”

“And he’s good with kids,” Sergei adds loudly and Ksenia flaps her hand at him. “That’s very important.”

“He was nervous to come here tonight,” Geno tells them. “He was afraid you wouldn’t like him.”

“We love him,” Ksenia says, “and we love him for you.” She reaches for his hand and pats it. “I’m so happy for you. This is exactly what you deserve. You deserve to be happy.”

“I think I’m …” He stops and takes a deep breath. Old fears come rushing back. Feeling too much for someone that doesn’t feel the same and never will. Being left again and again and guarding his heart from everyone. He exhales slowly and can just barely hear Victoria talking in the living room. Sid answers and both girls laugh. Sid is not like any of the guys back in Russia. He’s not like anyone he’s ever met.

“I think I’m really happy,” he finishes, and Ksenia squeezes his hand.

The three of them clear the table and load the dishwasher and it’s just like before Geno moved out -- the quiet comfort of nightly chores and talk about permission slips and grocery lists and whose turn it is to take out the trash.

Geno doesn’t necessarily miss living here, not with the freedom that his new apartment provides, but he does miss the idle chatter.

He brings a cup of tea for himself and a mug of hot chocolate for Sid into the living room and finds him sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the couch.

Victoria and Natalie are on either side of him, markers in hand as they doodle on Sid’s skin.

Natalie has colored the penguin a bright purple and Victoria is drawing squiggly lines of blue and pink on the inside of the whale. Sid has rolled the sleeve of his polo up to reveal the bridge on his bicep and Natalie is very carefully tracing the lines in yellow.

“Hope that comes off,” Geno says as he sits down on the edge of the coffee table in front of them.

“We’re making them pretty,” Natalie tells him. She doesn’t look away from the bridge. “They have to stay this way forever.”

“They’re washable,” Sid says as he nods at Victoria to keep going. “I double checked.”

“Forever,” Natalie says again.

“How about if it’s washed off by the time I see you again you can re-do it. Different colors that time so you can figure out what looks the best.”

Natalie brightens. “And then you’ll keep it forever?” “And then he will do what he wants because it’s his body.” Geno pokes his finger into Natalie’s side. She giggles and accidentally drags the marker across his arm.

“Whoops,” she says, “I didn’t mean to.”

“It’ll all right,” Sid tells her. “It’ll wash off, remember?”

The girls give them each a hug before they need to go upstairs and get ready for bed.

They thank Sid again for the chocolates and try to guilt Geno into coming back to see them soon.

“Bring Sid,” Natalie whispers loudly into his ear. “I like him.” Geno hugs her even tighter and Sid pretends not to have heard.

“Thank you for humoring our girls,” Sergei says as he and Ksenia walk them to the door.

“They’re great kids,” Sid tells him. “And pretty good artists.” He looks down at the color on his arms. “They stayed almost completely in the lines.”

Sergei laughs and pats him on the back.

“They still have a ways to go before they get accepted to art school.”

“If that’s something they’re interested in just let me know. My co-worker has a son a little younger than Victoria and he’s always taking some kind of class. He really has fun. Or I could come over and draw with them. I’m not a teacher but I could help.”

“Sid, you are welcome anytime,” Ksenia tells him. She pats Geno on the chest with the back of her hand. “You don’t even need to bring this one.”

“Careful, Sid,” Geno says. “Is trap. They just looking for babysitter, still upset that they lose me when I moved out.”

“It was such a good arrangement,” Sergei says. “Sid, if you want to leave your number --”

Geno throws his arm around Sid’s shoulders and guides him quickly towards the front door.

“It was really nice to meet you,” Sid yells over his shoulder as Geno pushes him out the door.

Outside Geno pulls up the sleeve of Sid’s shirt and says, “Didn’t have to let them color on you.”

Sid shrugs as he opens the driver’s side door and Geno walks around to the passenger side. “They asked nicely and they had fun. It’ll come off.”

“You wanted them to like you,” Geno teases with his tongue poking between his teeth. “Too afraid to say no.”

Sid rolls his eyes and slides into the car. “I can say no to children,” he says as Geno climbs in beside him. “But, yeah, I wanted them to like me.” He puts the key in the ignition but doesn’t start it. “They do like me, right?”

“They love,” Geno tells him. “They think you’re funny and smart and Ksenia likes your butt.”

That startles a laugh out of Sid and Geno cups his neck to pull him in for a kiss.

“This was fun,” Sid says when they pull back. “We should do it again.”

Geno’s just about to agree when the porch light flickers on and off rapidly and Sid groans.

“Too nosy,” Geno says as he leans across the center console and bangs his fist on the horn. Eventually the light goes out and Geno eases back into his seat. “Let’s go home,” he says and Sid starts the car.

The radio is on low on the ride back. Geno rests his head against the window and holds onto Sid’s right hand.

“Can we go to your place tonight,” he asks when he sees the first lights of the city.

“If you want to,” Sid answers and Geno looks back out the window to watch the lights dance across the water as they cross over the Liberty Bridge.

Geno kisses him the moment they get into the apartment. Sid barely has the door closed and his keys miss the bowl and drop to the hardwood.

“Take a shower with me,” Sid says as he tries to pull him by the belt loops towards the bathroom. “I have plans for you.”

Geno responds by pushing him towards the bed with purpose.

“This is the opposite of taking a shower,” Sid laughs but he goes easily enough and lets out a small _ooff_ when his back hits the mattress. “Fine. We’ll do whatever you have planned,” he says with a grin, and Geno intercepts his hands before they can make it to the button of his pants.

“What’s wrong?” When Geno doesn’t respond Sid pushes himself up onto his elbows and reaches for him. “Geno, hey, what’s up?” Geno carefully touches the hinge of Sid’s jaw with the tips of his fingers. He can feel Sid’s pulse thumping rapidly beneath his skin.

“You were so great tonight,” he says, and Sid swallows. “So good to my friends and those little girls. You’re so good to me. Don’t know what I did to deserve you. Don’t really think that I do.”

“Geno, that’s not --”

“I love you,” Geno says and Sid’s mouth snaps shut. “Love you.”

“Is that … is that it? It’s that why you’re acting all serious?”

Geno nods and Sid falls out of his hands and back onto the bed. He laughs but tries to smother it behind his hand. “Oh, my god, thank god. I thought you were breaking up with me.”

Geno scrunches up his face and looks down at Sid, who is still trying to stifle relieved giggles. “Break up with you? You think I take you to meet friends then tell you all these nice things about you just to break up with you?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Sid says as he sits up. “Sometimes I don’t know what I did to deserve you either.”

“Crazy,” Geno say softly and Sid grabs his hand and presses a kiss to the center of his palm. “I love you, too,” Sid says. “I should have said that first.”

Geno pokes his tongue out between his teeth. “I know.” He grabs the sketchbook off the nightstand and flips it open. Sid’s eyes go wide. “When you were in the shower I peeked. Didn’t mean to but was curious. You draw me like that, you think I look that good, must be love.”

“That’s not just the way that I see you, Geno. That’s the way you look. I’m not that good of an artist.”

“No,” Geno says with a shake of his head, “I know it’s love.” He carefully places the book back on the table and pulls Sid up to his feet. “Come shower with me. Want to know what plans you have for me.”

Sid stretches up onto his toes and kisses him sweetly.

Then Sid pushes him towards the bathroom, pulling at Geno’s clothing as they go.

-

Geno welcomes the first day of spring by hauling half of his inventory out onto the sidewalk and setting up shop out there.

There’s still a nip in the air but the sun is bright and he sees more foot traffic in one hour than he did in a whole week during the winter.

During the first truly warm week in April his supplier screws up and accidentally sends him more daffodils than he can handle. Instead of going through the hassle of sending them back he spends most of his days handing them out to anyone who passes by.

He gives one to a pretty woman who stays and lingers by the lilacs while Geno chats with other customers.

She keeps throwing him appreciative glances and, even though he’s not interested for a variety of reasons, he is flattered.

He’s thinking of a way to let her down easy when Sid comes out of Bridge Ink and crosses the street. Since the temperature has begun to rise Sid’s taken to wearing shorts that show off the shape of his thighs and calves. Geno only has a few moments to admire them before Sid steps steps onto the sidewalk and kisses him.

Geno shuts his eyes and leans into it. When he opens them again the woman is halfway down the street with the daffodil hanging carelessly from her fingertips.

“You are bad for business,” Geno says but the scolding tone of his words are undercut by the way he wraps his arms around Sid’s waist.

“She wasn’t interested in the flowers, G.”

“Don’t know that for sure.”

Sid gives him a little smile like he knows better and Geno gives him a handful of flowers to take back for Jake and Kris.

-

 _Dinner tonight??_ Geno texts a few hours before he’s set to close up shop.

Sid’s answer is immediate and mildly disappointing.

_Can’t. Really busy tonight._

Geno understands that, he does. Sid has told him before that there’s already an uptick in clients as graduation nears for the surrounding colleges. People want something permanent to remember their fraternity or sorority or the friends they’ve made. It’s not uncommon for him to get large groups of soon-to-be graduates coming in for the same design.

 _Come over after?_ Geno texts back and the bubbles pop up to show that he’s typing. Just as quickly they disappear and then:

_It’s going to be late. I know you’ve been busy, too. You should get some rest._

Wedding and prom season are in full swing and people are ordering centerpieces and corsages faster than he can make them, but he could find time for Sid. He always has in the past.

 _Rain check?_ Sid texts. _I love you._

 _Love you,_ Geno texts back and that’s the end of the conversation.

Geno sleeps fitfully that night. He never realized how clingy he had gotten until he finds himself reaching out towards the empty space beside him in bed more than a few times.

By the time morning rolls around he thinks maybe the space will do him some good. The last thing he wants to do is overwhelm Sid with how much he needs him.

It’s a thought that says with him until Sid opens the door to Coming Up Roses the next morning with the newspaper in his hand.

Then all Geno can think about is how much he missed him.

“Hey,” Sid says softly as he puts down the paper and leans over the counter to kiss him. “I missed you last night.”

“Come over tonight then. Make it up to me.”

Sid’s face pinches. “I can’t. We’re still really busy.”

“I have lots of work. I can wait up.”

“I just.” Sid stops and takes a deep breath. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea. I promise I’ll make it up to you, though.”

He’s already stepping away from the counter and towards the door. He’s wearing jeans despite the heat and it looks like he can’t wait to get out the door.

“I’ll text you. Have a good day.”

Sid doesn’t come over that night or the following night either. He stops by in the morning and in the mid-afternoon, but every time Geno brings up plans for that evening he makes up an excuse.

And it is made up.

Sid tells him he’s so busy at work that it makes him so tired and he’s not good company, but Geno knows the truth.

Geno works and lives right across the street. He can see who goes in and out of the shop. Bridge Ink isn’t any busier than normal and he’s caught Sid leaving for the night at a perfectly reasonable hour.

It hurts to know that Sid likes the distance more than he let on. And it hurts even more that he has to lie about it so blatantly.

The following day Sid comes over after closing with grocery bags in his hands.

“What’s this?” Geno asks, still wary.

Sid holds up the bags. “This is me making it up to you. Come upstairs and have dinner with me.”

Geno goes and he eats steak and potatoes while Sid tells him about the tattoo of a panther that he had to attempt to fix after the guy went to another tattoo parlor across town and decided he hated what they did to him.

“It took forever,” Sid says as he pours Geno another glass of wine. “But he said he’s going to come back to us for all his future work, so that’s good.” He sets the bottle down and smiles. “So how was your day?”

It’s a normal evening right up to the point where Geno strokes the side of his neck as they’re sitting on the couch and asks Sid if he wants to join him in the shower.

Any other night Sid would jump at the chance, but now he tenses and stutters as he tries to come up with a reason why he can’t.

“Don’t have to,” Geno says as he pulls his hand away. “Is okay.”

“I just feel a little …”

“Tired,” Geno fills in for him and Sid nods. “Okay. Is fine, Sid. Coming to bed, at least?”

Sid nods. “I’ll be in. I’m going to finish the movie first.”

Geno squeezes Sid’s thigh and Sid flinches.

Geno lingers in the shower and, when he gets out, the bed is empty.

Sid’s fallen asleep on the couch with his head on one of the throw pillows. He looks comfortable, like he planned to do this, and Geno’s not about to wake him. Instead, he grabs the blanket off the back of the couch and drapes it over him.

In the following days Geno doesn’t even ask Sid to come over. He already knows what the answer is going to be. Geno can give him space if that’s what he really wants. Hopefully he’ll come back.

When Sid does, it’s two days later with a wide, excited smile on his face.

“Hey,” he says as he locks the door behind him. Geno looks up from the bouquet he’s working on and doesn’t return the smile. Sid doesn’t seem to notice because his own smile doesn’t dim. “Can I show you something?”

Geno sets down the flowers and wordlessly follows him up the stairs.

Once they’re inside the apartment, Sid looks from the kitchen chairs to the couch then down the hallway towards the bedroom and back again.

“The couch, I think,” he says as he reaches behind him for Geno’s arm. “Sit down.”

Geno sits on the edge of the cushion and Sid steps into the space between his knees and the coffee table. Sid’s hands settle on the button of his jeans and the hurt and disappointment Geno’s been feeling over the past week bubbles over into anger.

Geno rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

“You ignore me for week, Sid. Not in mood to see dick.”

Sid blinks down at him. “What? Ignore you?”

“Say you busy,” Geno snaps. “You have so much work. College kids wanting stupid tattoos to remember their friends … I work across the street. I _live_ across the street. I can see who goes in and who doesn’t. You weren’t any more busy than you usually are. You want some space? You want a break. That’s fine. Just say. You lied.”

“I …” Sid swallows thickly, his fingers frozen on the button of his jeans. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

Geno scoffs. “Surprise,” he says bitterly and then because his brain always snaps to the worst possible conclusion he asks, “You cheat on me?”

Sid’s hands immediately cup his face. “I’m not cheating on you, I promise, I would never, I just …” He shuts his eyes and shakes his head. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“You say that already.”

“I know, just …” Sid sounds equal parts frustrated and panicked as his hands go back to the front of his jeans. “Just hold on. I need to show you something. Just hold on.”

Geno crosses his arms over his chest as Sid undoes the button and fly on his jeans. He very carefully keeps his boxers up around his hips as he slides the denim down. He stops around his knees and turns his left leg outward.

Geno uncrosses his arms when he spots the large splash of color on the delicate skin of Sid’s inner thigh.

There’s a peony spanning Sid’s entire thigh in dark pinks and light purples. It’s like a watercolor painting that fades out at the edges with beautiful brushstrokes.

It’s Kris’s work, Geno knows it, and suddenly everything starts clicking into place. The late nights and the sketchy texts. This took more than one session and, even if it didn’t, it takes time to heal. Sid didn’t want him to see it until it was finished. He wanted it to be a _surprise_.

“Oh,” Geno says. He reaches out but stops halfway and looks up at Sid. When Sid nods Geno touches the tips of his fingers to the ink. Sid’s muscles jump slightly beneath his hand and he doesn’t know what to think.

“Pretty,” is the only thing he can say.

“Tanger did a great job,” Sid says. “Do you like it?”

Geno still can’t find the words so he nods instead. “Do you?”

It’s in color, it’s for someone else. Geno isn’t Sid’s family and, judging by the way Sid handled this whole thing, it wasn’t thought out the way Sid’s tattoos usually are. He broke a lot of his own rules by doing this.

“I love it,” Sid says. “I know it’s not what I usually do, at all, but I love it. Tanger said he would do it for me and I didn’t overthink it, I just did it.”

“You get for me?”

“I got it for me,” Sid answers and, as he’s told him before, Geno know that’s really the _only_ reason anyone should ever get a tattoo. “I got it for me because it reminds me of you.”

Silence stretches between them as they stare at each other. Geno can’t even feel the heat of Sid’s skin against his hand anymore. He’s gotten used to it or he’s gone numb, one of the two.

“I didn't have time to tell you. As soon as I thought of it Tanger started in on it right away. I didn’t second-guess it or overthink it. I wanted it and I got it. But it took him a while to finish because we had work to do and the baby is teething so Tanger couldn’t stay too late. I didn’t want to show it to you until it was done and then I wanted it to heal because it didn’t look great while it was peeling, even now —”

“It’s beautiful, Sid.”

“I wanted it to be perfect when you first saw it, but I couldn’t wait anymore.”

“It’s perfect now.”

“I think I might have been a little afraid to tell you about it. If you hated it …” He stops and meets Geno’s eyes. “If you hate it or you think it’s stupid or you want to break up because I lied to you, I get it,” he says with a nod, but his voice cracks and Geno curls his hand into the front of Sid’s shirt and pulls him down across his lap.

“So dumb, Sid,” he says as he wraps his arms around Sid’s waist and hauls him against his chest. “So, so dumb.”

“What is?”

_The secret-keeping and the lying and thinking that they’d break up._

“Everything,” Geno says as he presses their lips together. “So dumb, everything.”

Sid laughs, high and slightly hysterical as he curls his fingers around the tops of Geno’s shoulders.

“You’re not breaking up with me,” Sid asks and Geno laughs and tips them both to the side so they’re lying on the couch, legs tangled together.

“No,” he says as he strokes the back of his knuckles across Sid’s cheek. “Not breaking up with you. Amazing.”

They’re close enough that Sid’s lips brush against Geno’s neck when he asks, “What is?”

_The tattoo and the sound of your laugh and your stubble scratching against my cheek._

“Everything.”

 

Three Years Later 

“And you’re sure about this? You’re absolutely sure.”

Geno rolls his eyes and wraps his arms more comfortably around the back of the chair.

“Yes, Sid. I already tell you over and over again. I’m sure.”

“Okay, all right. I just want to make sure.”

“I’m sure,” he says again. He’s been sure for months now. Ever since Sid proposed and he accepted, he’s been sure that he wants this.

A few weeks after the proposal Geno asked Sid to sketch the front of Bridge Ink the same style that he sketched out Coming Up Roses _._ He wouldn’t tell Sid why but under heavy suspicion Sid did it anyway. When he was finished Geno held both drawings side by side then pointed to his back and asked, “Look good, yes?”

Sid had been wary from the start.

“It’s a big commitment,” he had said over dinner and Geno nodded and picked up another slice of pizza from the box.

“So is marriage, but I’m do that.”

“That’s different.”

“How?” Geno asked. “Both forever.”

Sid had given him a sweet smile and stopped questioning him, but now that Geno has decided that today is the day for it actually to happen, the questions have started again.

“And that looks okay?”

Geno looks at the large hand mirror that Sid is holding. In the reflection he can see the stencil of the buildings on the back of his left shoulder.

He looks up from the mirror at Sid and nods. “Looks good. Exactly what I want.”

Sid nods and sets down the mirror so he can pull up a chair beside him.

“Let me know if you need a break at any time,” Sid says, sounding perfectly professional as he pulls on a pair of gloves and sets the needle into the machine. He spreads a thin layer of petroleum jelly over the stencil and Geno starts to feel himself get nervous.

Sid must feel it too because his voice is low and calm as he says, “Relax, take a deep breath and keep breathing. In and out, nice and even.”

Geno does as he’s told and Sid turns the machine on with a quiet buzz.

“Do you want Tanger to hold your hand,” Sid asks and Geno breathes out a surprised laugh.

“No, think I’m okay.”

“I’m here if you need me,” Tanger calls from across the room and holds up his hands.

“Relax,” Sid gently reminds him right before the needle touches his skin. “Think good thoughts.”

Geno takes a long and even breath and tunes out the noise of the machine and sharp feeling of the needle pricking his skin.

Instead he focuses on the sound of Sid’s breathing beside him and his forearm brushing against his skin as he traces the outline of the stencil.

He thinks about the promises they’ve made to each other in private and the ones they’ll make to each other in front of their friends and family. About how the empty space over Sid’s heart will soon be filled with a child’s drawing or their name or birthday. How they’ll be the pitter patter of little feet running down the hall and a high chair in the kitchen.

There are good things coming for them.

“How are you doing,” Sid asks and Geno turns his head to look at him.

There are good things coming from them but right now…

“I’m doing great,” Geno says softly. “Everything is great.”

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is [ here ](https://secret-sidgeno-writer.tumblr.com/)


End file.
